Lonesome Wanderers
by reader-chic-2
Summary: The idea behind foster siblings never connected in Clary's brain. Two teenagers who had never met once in their life were thrust together in a spectacle of violent yelling and silent sobbing. Sibling love? Why would she? More importantly, why should she love him like a brother? Jace Wayland. She spat on that name. Foster sibling or not, she would do whatever she wanted with him.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Cassandra Clare is the awesome owner of these characters. I just put them in new circumstances.**

 **A/N: Hope you like it. ;)**

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Foster homes weren't foreign to Clary. She was just new to foster homes without her brother.

She blew red curls away from her face and looked up. This was the right flat. She just couldn't believe how small it was. Most foster parents took in four kids at a time to get a large payment. It was always for a short time, of course, but they normally had a large apartment. This one was on the dirty side of Brooklyn - though if you asked her when she was ten she'd have told you all of Brooklyn was dirty. On one side of the stairs to the entrance of the building was a homeless man who looked like he wanted to bite her. On the other side was a man in a wife beater eyeing Clary like he wanted to eat her as well, in a much more perverted way.

Her social worker pressed a tight smile to her lips as she looked at Clary. They climbed their way to the third floor. The social worker's fist pounded into the door, breaking apart any essence of silence.

The knock resonated in Clary's ears. Her heart beat with it. One solid sound surrounded by nothingness. It was just the fluid swimming in her ears. In Brooklyn there was never nothingness. Honking cars and yelling men and women filled the air, yet she still felt it was just her and the door to her new home.

The walls of the hallway were brown, though she assumed they were originally white. This apartment was tucked in the last corner of the hall. The two other apartments were most likely larger. Her eyes roamed around until seeing the number on the door. 303.

She laughed dryly and rolled her eyes. 3 was a too common number to her now. Three people had been important in her life. Now there were zero. Clary didn't want to know what the next three meant. Maybe those same three people would come back to haunt her.

The social worker knocked again. Her fist attacked the door mercilessly, not caring of the consequences on the cheap metal. Clary snorted, "What did the door ever do to you, Big Bev?"

Big Bev was the nickname Jonathan had given their social worker. Big Bev's yellowish eyes rolled over slowly. The look she gave the girl could have made any other sixteen-year-old look away. Clary stared back, looking over her non-changing dark complexion.

Before she could give Clary a third speech on behaving herself, the door swung open. A beautiful woman with disheveled hair and searching eyes clutched the handle. Her eyes were worried until they registered on the two before her. Her blond hair was half curled and half a wavy mess. The dress she wore wasn't tied, and she wore mismatching heels.

"Come in, come in," she said in an overly cheery voice that grated at Clary's ears. When the woman looked at Clary, her smile widened and exposed perfect teeth. "I'm so sorry. My husband woke me up late today. I barely even got a hug from him before he was out the door, ready for work!"

Clary heard similar ramblings before. "You've got me. You no longer have to suck up to her. She's not nearly as intimidating as she thinks she is."

Waves of resentment radiated from Big Bev's aura. Clary could feel the distaste. It wasn't uncommon. She sighed and stepped around the woman, eyeing the apartment. "Clarissa, this is Celine Herondale. Mrs. Herondale, this is Clarissa Fray. If you'd both follow me into the kitchen, we can get these papers signed and I'll be on my way."

The door opened into the living room. A couch sat across from a small television. The rug didn't match the paintings on the wall, which were cheap, crappy ones at best that diverted the attention to them in a negative lighting. Across from the front door was an open doorway. Through that Clary saw the kitchen table. To the right of that was a bookcase with limited books and another open doorway, which she assumed also led to the kitchen. Immediately to Clary's right was a hallway.

It was small, but at least this one had air conditioning and windows looking out at the grungy streets.

The kitchen looked quite clean and well stocked. That was a relief. The last home she'd been in was moderately stocked. With her bother's stomach, though, that wasn't enough. Coldness seeped down her spine with the realization that she wouldn't have that problem here.

"Sign here, and here. Initial here. Clary, you can sign this, if you will," Big Bev's voice was falsely asking. Her scratchy tone tried to be cheery just so she could finally leave.

Clary knew this process well.

Soon, Big Bev hobbled out the door.

Celine turned to Clary with a bright, knowing smile. Clary frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Giggles of sunshine escaped her lips. "I'm so excited to get to know you and Jace! Stephen and I were so happy to hear you agreed."

Just from those two sentences, she got all the information she needed on her new partial caretaker. Clary leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms defiantly over her dark red shirt. "First time is always so…" She breathed in to build the 'anticipation,' "exciting!" She mimicked her cheerful voice, and Sunshine's smile dropped. Clary almost felt bad, but then again, Sunshine could use a little thunderstorm in her life. "When's the Jace kid getting here?"

"Anytime today. Since you were the first here, you can pick out your room," Celine said, dialing back the pep, but only by one notch. She stood, and Clary followed uncertainly. Since when did she get her own room? The idea seemed impossible.

"When are the rest of the kids coming?" Clary asked, pulling her bag further up her shoulder. Celine led her down the hall. Two doors were on their left, one on their right, and one straight ahead.

"What others? It's just you and Jace," Celine faced her with another excited smile. Clary groaned internally at the motion. Confusion also flooded her senses, blinding her momentarily. Why would she only have two kids if there were two rooms? Most social workers allowed for two kids per room unless they were really shitty. "Left or right?"

Clary frowned. She seriously got to choose? Where was she, fairyland? "Uh…"

Celine stepped forward and held a hand to her mouth in a whispering motion. "The one on the right has its own bathtub." Clary's eyebrows shot to her hairline. Celine pushed open the door, knowing how hard that was to believe. "It was supposed to be the master suite with its own bathroom. Then our neighbors decided to buy their apartment and part of this one before we got to make our offer. It dropped our price so we didn't mind much. They never finished closing this off, though."

There were two beds in this one, but only one had sheets on it. The beds were on either corner of the left wall. The dressers were placed in across from the beds on the right wall. Between the dressers there was a little alcove. It had tile and a white elegant bathtub in it.

"Why aren't you and your husband in this one?" Clary asked.

"It's much too big for us. We are planning on eventually fostering more children, but not anytime soon. I think we'll like you and Jace." Celine giggled. The sound was, again, so light.

"We're still in Brooklyn right?"

"Yes," Celine laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she mumbled and turned to her. "I guess I'll take this." She set her two suitcases down. Celine squealed, jumping up and down.

"This is so exciting!" The doorbell rang. A wave of relief went through Clary, though she didn't know why. "Come meet your brother." Clary reluctantly followed her back into the living room.

After knowing Celine for five minutes, she decided she would be a fine foster parent for _her._ Clary felt a little sad and slightly scared for Celine, though. Some foster kids come in and just tear nice people like her apart. Celine lived a cushioned life. She wondered why she did foster care.

Another round of squeals came from Celine when the door opened. Clary walked around. She was slightly curious of the boy named Jace. In her mind, he was a little boy around the age of eight with dark hair and a mischievous grin. He wouldn't be broken by the system like most kids. He'd steal her heart, no doubt, and he'd leave her pretty soon.

A tall, blonde, gorgeously hot teenager walked through the door. Clary had trouble swallowing how wrong she'd been. She had trouble swallowing in general. Jace was no boy. Jace was dressed in dark ripped jeans, a black shirt with a pendulum hanging from his neck, and a leather jacket. The black made a stark contrast to his light skin tone. His hair was the color of the sun, burning her eyes with its beautiful curls. He ran a hand to push it out of his face. His eyes matched his hair. They captured hers immediately. When he noticed, an impish smirk graced his lips. Clary had never seen something so breath taking before.

As Celine kissed up to the social worker despite the lack of a need to, Jace looked Clary up and down. His eyes lingered on every single part of her, running a line of fire from her head to her toes and back up. She felt the need to look away, to run away, but she knew it'd give him too much satisfaction.

Seeing that she wouldn't cave, Jace sent her a wink. Instantly, Clary groaned and looked away. Satisfaction be damned, he was a cocky ass. A cocky ass with a good ass, but a cocky one no less.

"May we sit somewhere?" The social worker interrupted Celine. She smiled whole-heartedly and motioned the two men into the kitchen. Clary followed. There were four chairs, perfectly placed around the table. She sat down across from Jace. He stared openly at her, a low smirk the only evidence of life on his face. His eyes were so dull despite their color. Clary itched to grab a lead pencil and a lone golden colored one. That was all she needed. It could capture everything about the boy in front of her. "Two kids. Two sexes. Two rooms. Right?"

"You're right alright," Celine agreed giddily. Clary rolled her eyes. Her last foster parent was the polar opposite of Celine. She showed no emotion. She hardly spoke. It was easy to forget it. It was harder to forget her husband, but at least she didn't give Clary a headache just looking at her.

Jace was still watching her. "You two both know the rules. Celine, you know the risks of having only two teenagers of the opposite sex together?"

Celine smiled. "I trust them. They're going to be good kids."

The social worker looked scared. Clary was scared by the amount of trust in her words. "Does your husband know the consequences if this ends badly, as well?" She nodded. "Okay. Sign here, here, and here…" Clary looked at Jace. He was watching her with annoyance. His eyes flickered to Celine briefly. Clary nodded in agreement. She had trouble stomaching her excitement as well.

When the social worker left, Celine checked her watch. "Stephen is coming back for lunch. Why don't we introduce ourselves before then? I'm Celine Herondale. My husband and I got married five years ago. I'm thirty-eight now. Umm, what else? I work as an interior designer. Don't judge our house off my skills, though. We haven't gotten around to redecorating."

Clary's eyes were as big as flying saucers. "Is she serious?" Jace narrowed his eyes at the woman before him. She giggled.

"I am. Tell me a little about yourself, Jace Wayland." Celine smiled warmly at him. He jumped back slightly at the warmth. Clary snickered silently.

Jace stared at Celine, trying to comprehend her question. Then he took his time with the answer. "Well what the fuck do you want me to say?"

Clary laughed out loud. Her hands flew to her mouth. Celine's smile didn't even waver. Her eyes softened. "Clary, would you like a turn?"

Clary felt a little bad after laughing at Jace's comment. He might have been a compelling specimen of a man, but that didn't mean she had to be rude. With a sigh, she stared at Celine. "Clary Fray. I've been in the system for five years. This is my seventh foster home."

Jace snorted. "Get into a bunch of fights?"

Clary's bones chilled. She remembered her many houses. Two of them got closed down while she was there for unfit living situations. Twice she and Jonathan had been separated. She remembered meeting up at their old house, which was now foreclosed. She'd stand there every Friday night until he showed up, rain or snow. They both had agreed to get into a fight so they'd have to be removed from the home. It was always risky. Once, Jonathan opted out of fighting for fear of being sent to juvenile detention. He'd had to runaway and get caught. Clary did have to give it to Big Bev. She did her damn best to place them together. Two houses were more upsetting, but the last one had almost been a full year. It'd been fine there. It was great, even when the fighting reached their ears.

"Made out with too many girls in the houses," Clary narrowed her eyes at him. Jace's smile grew, as if he knew she was lying. Clary crossed her arms over her chest. Celine gulped audibly.

"Clary, please don't lie in my house," she asked. Jace let out a snort and laughed lowly at her. She raised her eyebrow at him. It was his turn.

Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Jace spoke like he'd rather be in hell. "Jace Wayland. This is my second foster home. Unlike you, I did get in trouble for making out with too many girls. And other stuff." He shrugged and looked at Celine. Celine looked slightly miffed. Clary's curiosity grew. She had trouble believing him this time, but Celine didn't say anything. Jace lifted his intense gaze from Celine and looked back at Clary. "What year are you?"

Clary was confused for a second. She hardly ever spoke about school to anyone these days. She hadn't thought about it, really. Considering she had to transfer, she wasn't too thrilled at starting over new. "Junior."

"Senior. Now doesn't that give me the seniority right of choosing the bedroom?" Jace pressed his elbows into the table. Clary didn't see that coming, and she had trouble thinking of a comeback.

"Jace, didn't your father raise you to be a gentleman?" Celine wiggled her eyebrows at him, making her first, and hopefully last, joke. Jace's entire frame stood still. His hunched shoulders tensed. His hands gripped together so hard she could see the outline of his biceps and triceps bulging. His dull eyes turned dark.

"No. He didn't." He shoved away from the table in a fiery heat. He was gone like the wind, and Celine was left staring openmouthed. Clary groaned.

"What…what did I say?" She asked.

Clary stood, rolling her eyes. "My bet would be that his dad hardly raised him at all." She walked away, following the trail of fire Jace left. He'd found his room. Clary knocked on the door. Jace didn't answer, but she entered anyways. He was on the fire escape. Clary could see the tenseness in his shoulders. She didn't have anything to say to him. Actually, the less she said the better. However, she walked out on the fire escape anyways. He didn't say anything, and neither did she. The street below them was even busier now with people. Kids frolicked in the street, some jumping rope, others wandering around staring at their phones. She wondered what they did all the time that demanded so much attention. "She meant well."

Jace snorted. "I don't care what she meant. She has no business near people like us." He stretched out, leaning further over the rail. For a moment, she worried he thought about jumping. Immediately, she dismissed the idea. He was brooding, but he had too much anger to want to jump, too much emotion.

Clary sighed loudly and pushed away from the rail. "I'm leaving here at seven thirty. I've been to this school before, I think. I'm not sure, but," Clary laughed nervously, which was very unlike her, "do you want me to wait on you?"

Jace laughed dryly. "Thanks, Red, but I can find my own way."

Clary felt the blood rush to her face. "What did you call me?"

Jace still didn't turn around. Clary leaned back over the rail, glaring at him with the passion of a Christian speaking to a group of Atheists. "I'm sorry. _What_ did you just call me?"

Jace grinned wickedly at her. "You heard me."

He walked away with a small bounce in his step. Clary gritted her teeth. She counted in her head to ten, thinking of multiple ways to inflict ultimate pain on that arrogant bastard. Then, she stormed through his room. "You and I are going to have problems."

"Looking forward to it, shortcake."

Clary slammed the door on the way out. She nearly ran into Celine, who was in tears. She looked at Clary like she'd just killed a puppy. "I'm so dumb. I never meant-,"

Clary bit her lip, averting her gaze away. "No. You just didn't think. You shouldn't have to think about things like that." There was a silence before Clary continued with her question. "Why did you decide to foster?"

Celine opened her mouth to reply, but somebody called out from the living room, "Celine? Are they here?"

Celine took a deep breath and wiped the tears away. "Yes. Clary, why don't you meet Stephen while I get Jace?"

The kitchen was overtaken by a man in a fancy suit. He looked out of place in this Brooklyn suite. The blonde hair was stark. It drew her attention first. It was blonder than her brother. She took that back. Jonathan had an equally bleached blonde colored hair. She decided it was a platinum color.

Clary coughed awkwardly. He turned around slowly, a charming smile gracing his lips. "Clarissa, it's so great to meet you." He walked forward, arms at the ready. Clary shied away. She made it a personal rule of hers not to hug or come anywhere near her foster fathers. It 'sent the wrong message' to more than a few. He cleared his throat. "Stephen Herondale."

"Clary Fray," she said tightly and shook his hand. She'd been through this routine many times. She knew how this worked. They were abnormal foster parents, but she easily could comply with them as long as Stephen didn't end up like her fifth foster father. Thinking about it gave her chills.

Awkward silence encased them until Celine and Jace made their appearance. Jace stayed by the doorway, eyeing Stephen up. He did the same. It was an odd scene, two blondes battling it out. "You play any sports?"

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like the school pride type of guy?"

Stephen's lips lifted in approval. "No. You don't, but you are fit."

Jace shrugged. "It comes with the fighting, I suppose." Stephen nodded. He looked to Clary.

"I hope he gave you the bathtub room," he said. Clary blew out a breath of air. His icy tone with her had immediately changed to interested when Jace was near. Though she didn't feel his eyes scrounging over her body yet, she suspected what these signs meant. He was giving her the room for 'no reason.' She was glad she got it, but did she truly deserve it just because she had boobs?

"Yes," she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why do you care?"

Stephen picked up an apple and took a bite, gesturing to Jace with it. "We've been broken into twice from that window. If you can beat him in a fight, by all means, take whichever room you desire. If not, I'm more comfortable with Jace in there."

"What do you say, Red, wanna go at me?" Jace pushed off the wall, eyeing her up. Clary let out a shaky laugh, but only to Stephen's comment.

"I'd rather let him die than me, thank you," she said. "How did you get that through the social workers?"

Stephen reached down into the cabinet. He produced four metal bars. "I said we'd patch it up. Jace can help me on that when I get off work."

Jace nodded solemnly. Clary felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. The bars rested on the counter precariously. They would hardly be effective in keeping anyone out. She frowned. How would they put those in?

"Welding is a rare talent among men these days," Stephen laughed at her expression. Clary gritted her teeth. "I worked on cars when I was young. Now I'm an accountant." His voice dropped at that. The watch on his arm was flashy, silver. It beeped. "That's my cue. I'll see you three for dinner."

Dinner was awkward. They tried to make conversation with Clary and Jace. Jace was too busy stuffing his face with warm, home cooked food. Clary had watched Celine cook it from the living room, envy glowing a bright emerald in her matching colored eyes. She used to dream of cooking like that with her mother at her side. Now, she could only watch. Celine hummed as she stirred the mashed potatoes. It put Clary in a bad mood for dinner. She listened as Stephen retold his day and Celine hers. They led rather bland lives. Their life was a routine, a dependable, steady routine.

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 **A/N: I'm not sure when to say it will get necessarily good. Heh. I'm not sure if this is even good. I think it is. I'm not sure. Believe it or not, this story was originally a one-shot based around the idea of hate sex. Well, I have many Clace one shots and one other complete story. If you don't like this, maybe you'll like those.**

 **Okay, enough advertising. What did you guys think? Should I continue? If I do, you can expect the next chapter in four days. If I get 5 reviews, I'll make it 2-3 days. Please tell me your thoughts on where this could go. I love hearing feedback from you guys!**

 **Feel beautiful ~ reader-chic-2**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot.**

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When she climbed into bed, the cold surrounded her. It was snowing outside as winter began. Heat blew through the vents, but not enough. The mattress was squeaky and uncomfortable. She tossed and turned until she settled on her back, staring at the blank ceiling.

Her thoughts attacked her. How had she gotten here? She was so alone. Her brother was the final straw. He left her. He never came back for her, either. She knew things took time, but he turned eighteen three months ago. Clary was kicked out of her foster home a week ago. She'd had to go to a group home for a week, doing absolutely nothing aside from thinking. Now here she was, going over and over how she'd gotten to where she was all alone.

A tear slid down her cheek. Her mother never wished this for her daughter. She knew she didn't. She couldn't have. Hell, Clary didn't know. She'd never know anymore. A memory slipped through her dam.

When Clary was eight, she came home in tears. A boy had snipped a lock of her hair from her ponytail without her knowledge. Jonathan held Clary's hand on their walk home, which was a big deal considering he never did that for fear of being insulted by his friends. Jocelyn knew something was wrong when she saw them walking together. She took Clary into her arms, spinning her around like she used to when she was little. It always made her giggle with glee. It didn't that time.

"M-m-my hair. It's ruined!" she bawled into her mother's similar flaming hair. Jocelyn carefully set her child on the ground. People grumbled as they passed by. Clary would never forget how little her mother cared about causing a scene. She had stared at the locket hanging from her mother's chest. Inside, she knew, was a picture of Clary and Jonathan when she was three and he was five. Jocelyn never showed Clary the other picture.

"It's not ruined, sweetie. It's just a little red," she undid the ponytail. Jonathan laughed beside the two. Clary cried harder and shook her head. She pulled out the shortened strand by the front of her face.

"He cut it off, Mommy. He cut it off!"

"Who?"

"Raphael."

Jocelyn made a tsk-tsk sound. She bit her lip before snapping her fingers. The biggest, warmest smile grew on her face. "He gave you bangs because he likes you so, so much! When we get home, I'll cut them a little bit more, and then we can have matching hairstyles. How does that sound?"

Clary sniffled. Her tears had stopped, though. She looked at her mother with big eyes. "Really? Just like yours?"

Jocelyn nodded. "Just like mine."

Clary shifted in her bed, curling in on herself as a sob left her lips. She missed the hug that spun her world so crazy that she forgot all of her problems. She needed it. She needed some type of warmth in this cold city she was caged in.

She needed someone.

. . .

Alarm blaring, Clary rolled out of bed slowly. She took her time getting ready as if the slower she went the less time she had to be at school. Books weren't her thing. Her grades were fine, but she much preferred art and museums compared to notes and quizzes.

The bathroom was locked. She waited outside for five minutes, dozing off in the process. Stephen and Celine were both buzzing around the kitchen, finding food and last minute things for his job. Clary was going to be late. While it didn't concern her too much, she hated getting off on a bad start with her teacher. "Jace! I need to shower!"

Jace's comment came back almost instantly, with his grading voice scratching at her nerves. "Come in and join me, Red. It's all warmed up for you."

Clary groaned. She somehow managed to squeeze in a shower between the time Jace was out of it and the first bell. As he said, Jace had his own path to school. Clary didn't understand him. She had an urge to follow Jace, just to see where he went, but that would have been more than embarrassing if he'd caught her.

Instead, she went to school.

She was right to think she went here before, but it had only been for a week. The information on her schedule wasn't easy to follow. She ended up being late to her first class. The door into the chemistry room squeaked when she opened it. Why was she even placed in chemistry? She'd be too behind to ever catch up. The school was one of the nicer ones in Brooklyn. Its white walls blinded her. Now the students' eyes did the same. The teacher turned around from the board. He looked up. "You're late, Ms. Fray."

Clary held her tongue. Even if she argued it, what did it matter? She was a foster student. He'd think the same thing about her as everyone else. Mr. Jones had glasses on the edge of his nose. With a sigh, they nearly fell off. "Everyone this is our new student Clary Fray. Clary, pair up with Simon. Maybe he'll catch you up."

Whom she assumed was Simon had his head on his desk and shot right up at the mention of his name. He looked around the room. His glasses were lopsided, and a comic book was stuck to his face for a second before it fell. Everyone laughed. Clary made her way to him. She picked up the comic book.

"This is an old one," she muttered and handed it back to him. Mr. Jones continued with his notes, but Simon didn't even have a pencil out.

"It's my favorite one," he said and snatched it out of her hands. He looked her up and down, but it was in a studying way more than a sexual one. "I'm Simon."

Clary lifted her lips up at him in a slight smile. "Clary. Shouldn't we be taking notes?"

Simon looked at the board. "Oh! Um, yeah, we should. I don't know why he stuck you with me. He thinks I'm one of the smart nerds. I'm not. I just like comic books."

Clary snorted. His dorky attitude have her a little light on this gloomy day. "So do I." It was one of the things Jonathan gave her when she was little. Some of the 'more graphic' ones they had to hide from their mom. It was something they continued throughout their early teen years as well.

They took notes for most of class. When the bell rang, Simon was leaning over her desk looking at her schedule. "Ouch. That's history with Señor Snooze-a-lot."

Clary sighed. "I have no idea where this is."

Simon beamed at her. "Lucky for you, you've got a first class host at your service. To room 320 we go!"

Simon offered her his arm. She had to decline. Now the halls were filled with so many people that the walls were less blinding. Their school colors were white and gold. People wore the school colors a lot, she noticed. It was an unpleasant observation. Simon saw her face.

"School spirit here is a big thing." He shrugged. "Why did you move? Where did you move from?" He was too excited to be asking these questions. Clary gave him an annoyed face. Luckily, he didn't get angry. He blushed like he was embarrassed. "Sorry. It's not often I make new friends."

Clary wanted to ask, "Is this what you call a friend?" To anyone else she would, but something about the eager look in his eyes made her falter. He seemed so genuine. She spoke quickly to fill the void of silence, "I hope I'm not your first."

Simon snorted loudly. She frowned, not catching the double meaning. "Uh, no, you're not. You are the first _girl_ I've befriended."

Clary looked him up and down. "I can see that," she laughed slightly. Simon looked at his outfit.

"What's wrong with this?"

She smirked. "I'm no fashion extraordinaire, but you could try not clashing black and navy." His pants were navy and his shirt was a black comic tee.

Simon shoved her shoulder. "Oh whatever miss misunderstood. You're not fooling anyone with that nose ring. We can all see you're secretly a sweetheart."

Clary groaned. The nose ring was a small barely noticeable black diamond stud. She didn't know what it was made of, actually, but Jonathan had told her it was her special diamond that nobody could steal easily. She had trouble believing him now. People always found a way to steal things, even time.

Simon stopped at a door. "This is it. Let me see your schedule." He looked it over, growing sadder by the second. "We have lunch together...why the hell are you taking martial arts?"

Clary grabbed the paper out of his grasp. She ran a hand through her unruly red curls framing her face. She was itching to put it into a bun of some sort to stop it from getting in her eyes. However, with it down, she was able to hide herself from anyone who approached. "I have no idea. I said I needed a gym credit."

Simon laughed nervously. "This certainly counts. I hope you're strong or fast."

"I can barely walk in one piece!"

His smile fell. "You're a dead man, Clary."

He left Clary to mourn for her loss on her own. The history teacher was a frail old lady who had shaking hands. This class went by the slowest. She wasn't introduced, which was a blessing to her. Nobody even noticed the new girl sitting in the back. She made her way to her next two classes. One teacher introduced her, forcing her to go to the front of the class. Nobody spoke to her, though, since the teacher threw around one hundred math problems at them. She fled the room instantly.

She didn't pack anything for lunch. The school lunch smelled like old butt. It looked even worse. Less than half the kids had a lunch in hand. She was about to head to the library when somebody tapped her on her shoulder. She spun around to see Simon, glasses crooked again, smile on his face.

"Clary, I've looked everywhere for you." He said. It freaked her out slightly. "We sit back here." The path to the table offered many obstacles for her to avoid. Kids had their feet thrown on the tables or in the aisles, anywhere but where they were supposed to be. She did stumble, and kids did laugh, but it didn't bother her. It happened everywhere.

"Clary, these are my band mates." He listed off too many names to remember. Clary didn't even try. She only remembered Eric because he had a blonde sitting on his lap. He patted her leg and she hopped off, smiling at Clary. "She's not part of the band. I don't even know her name."

The blonde looked offended. She turned to Eric expectantly. He groaned and ran after her. "No, Lucy, he's just dumb!"

Clary raised her eyebrows. "You have a seat now."

For most of lunch, she talked mainly to Simon. He gave her the rundown of the school. It was just like all the others she's attended. There were the popular girls in all their high glory. The jocks didn't exactly rule the school quite so much anymore, but they definitely were part of the top of the food chain. There were the partiers who joined their sides to create the most intimidating squad of all time. Those were Simon's words, which Clary found unbelievable.

"And they just like to show off their drugs," Simon continued. Clary looked towards the windows, growing somewhat bored of looking straight at Simon or the table. People passed by in a slow pace since it was the middle of the lunch period. Then, the mood in the entire cafeteria shifted. It was only to Clary's knowledge, it seemed. Jace had walked through the front door, trailed by three girls. They all were trying to hold a conversation with him. This, knowing Jace and his moody behavior, intrigued Clary. He tolerated the girls for only a few moments longer. Somewhat near her table, Jace stopped. A girl ran smack dab into his back.

"Clary?" Simon asked.

"Shh. I'm trying to listen," she whispered, like Jace could hear her from her spot in the crowded lunchroom.

Jace looked at the three girls. His glare scared even Clary. The girls surely must have been shaking. "What do you want?"

A brave soul giggled. "We were wondering if you want to sit with us," she said, pointing to her table. Jace's eyes didn't even wander near that general direction. His fists were clenched.

"And I'm telling you no. So stop following me," he growled. The girls flinched at his words, and Jace took that opportunity to continue on his warpath. It wasn't before he caught Clary's eye. She didn't try to hide the amusement twinkled in her gaze. Her expectations of him were to be a player. Clearly, he rose even above those asshole expectations to just being a straight dick. Clary enjoyed it. He was frustrated by all the attention of being a new kid. In his defense, he probably didn't have as much practice as Clary did.

Jace slammed the door to the hallway. Clary was still laughing. It only increased when she thought about dinner that evening. Simon jerked her arm, causing her to finally look back at him. "Do you _know_ him?" Clary nodded. Simon swallowed. "H-how? You're both new."

Clary frowned. "It doesn't matter." His breath was pressing at her side. She leaned away. "I'm going to my next class. I'll see you, Simon."

Jace was hard to follow. He didn't seem to be heading to any particular place known to her mind. His pace was brisk, like he had a destination. He turned a corner, but she didn't see him when she rounded it. She looked around. A few students stared at her. Clary sharpened her gaze, and they looked away. Just as she was about to turn away, a hot hand grabbed her by the arm. Her world went tumbling to the right.

Her back slammed up against the wall. A line of fire pressed against her shoulder. "Fancy seeing you here," Jace's voice was unmistakable. Despite the teasing words, it came out as a threat on Clary's life. Her eyes clashed against his. The anger was directed straight at her, but she knew it couldn't have stemmed straight from her stalking him. Clearly, that wasn't an uncommon event. Her heart was hammering inside her chest. Why not give it a second accelerant?

"I was just making sure you weren't lost," she smiled, struggling to speak fluently with an entire forearm pressed against her trachea.

Jace shoved her further into the wall and pushed away. "What do you want, Red?"

Clary coughed heavily as she struggled to her feet. They were in the low-lit area of a closet, though she had no idea what the purpose for it was. A light bulb was swinging from where Jace hit it on his way in the cramped corridors. It cast dizzying shadows everywhere.

"I wanted to applaud you." Jace's sneer came without mercy. Clary chanced a grin at him. "I think you almost made a girl cry."

Jace looked Clary over. It was the malicious glint in her eye that stopped him. His gaze went from pissed to confused, but there was a lingering hint of curiosity mixed in those eyes. "You'd enjoy that?"

She shrugged.

Jace whistled, "You're crazier than me."

"Foster kid _and_ a crazy red head, remember," she wagged a strand of hair as if he could forget. He snorted. She stepped up close to him. "Why is it you don't use the girls? If you aren't the gentlemen type, how is it you don't break every girl's heart you come in contact with?"

Jace seemed impressed by her question. He stepped forward as well, close enough for her to smell him. Her head spun. He grabbed a handful of her red curls and tugged lightly, smiling smugly when Clary resisted. "They're fragile kids, Clary. If I want sex, I have sex, but it's with somebody who can dish out what I serve." He tightened his hold on her hair. "And those girls don't come by often."

Clary felt a shiver run down her spine. His words caressed her body into opening up to them. They wound their way around her core, dancing a dance that could fuel her body for ages. Her eyes burned with their fire. "I'm sure they don't."

Jace stared at her, hands still woven into her hair. She let him take control of her head, just for the feeling of such heat encasing her mind. Green clashed into gold, and neither looked ready to give up. Eventually, Jace gave a final tug and let her hair fall to her shoulders. "You might want to tame that mess, Red." He opened the door, headed out.

The name caused an electric shock to run through her body. Her eyes closed as she regained her footing. "I can't be tamed, Jace. And that's a promise." She smirked at him as she walked by. His eyes on her body gave her the idea to use more of her hips in her walk.

"I'll take that challenge one of these days."

She grinned dirtily at him over her shoulder. "I'm sure you will."

. . .

Clary debated skipping. It was her last class. Would Celine be able to file for a missing foster kid in the time it took her to get home? Clary wondered if she even knew their phone number. However, she figured she had to go eventually. Clary walked into the gym expecting to see a bunch of people dressed in black robes bowing their heads.

She was so wrong.

This gym was in a large weight room. A middle rectangle in the floor was cleared out. Three pairs of kids were hitting each other. Clary flinched when one landed a kick to a girl's side. Her black hair flung around as she stumbled towards the floor. She got back to her feet, though. Her eyes were set ablaze. The brown burned black, and the boy she was fighting got a nice elbow to the face and kick to the stomach. His blue eyes were alight with fury as they continued.

"Stand to attention for role," a booming voice sounded. Clary spun around. A man with white blonde hair and hollowed in cheekbones closed the door to the gym. The resemblance to her brother was almost painful. Clary's heart squeezed. His black eyes scrutinized Clary. "You're Clarissa Fray?"

She nodded curtly.

His eyes looked her up and down. "You'll partner up with the other new kid. Lightwood, find Clarissa a workout outfit. Out here in five."

The girl she'd seen take a kick and fire back earlier stepped forward. She looked Clary up and down. "Follow me." She walked them into a small closet and pulled out a box. "What size?"

"Small."

She tossed her a pair of shorts. "You can have a shirt, but you'll take it off eventually," she gestured to her own outfit. She only had a sports bra on. Clary took the shirt. "I change before class, but you can change in here. I'll hold the door."

She turned her back to Clary like she'd instantly agree. Clary wasn't one to be self-conscious, but anyone would be around this girl. Her hips reached above Clary's bellybutton. With a sigh, Clary stripped herself of her clothes, pulled on the sports bra she'd brought in anticipation, and squeezed into the shorts. They were more than a little tight.

"I'm Isabelle, by the way."

"Clary," she huffed as she tied her shoes. She pulled on the shirt, for now. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that she'd be sweating more than Isabelle. "I shouldn't be in this class."

Isabelle waved her hand. "You're a foster kid. You've got natural skills, I'm sure. Besides, Valentine will whip you into shape in a few days no matter how shitty you start."

Clary spun around. "How did you know I'm a foster kid?"

Isabelle looked at her blankly. "I met Jace. I'm sorry you have to be stuck with such an ass."

She was right about him being an ass. Clary exited alongside Isabelle, looking at the room in a whole new light. Jace was fighting with Isabelle's partner. "That's Alec. He and I are sparring partners, which is insane considering he's my brother that I could easily fight for real at any given time of the day."

Clary watched with unsettlement as Jace moved about Alec. He was hard to keep up with. His kicks and punches were fast and sharp. By Alec's groans of pain, they were powerful, too. Even when Alec landed a punch, Jace hardly even flinched. He might have underplayed his fighting skills a bit.

Valentine appeared by her side and pressed a hand to her shoulder. She squeaked in alarm. "Don't wet your pants. Consider him your tutor. He's already completed my courses."

Isabelle snorted. "So he is the stuck up prick I assumed he'd be." She jogged over to them. "Stop bruising my partner. Clary's waiting for you."

Jace helped Alec off his back. The black haired boy's eyes stared after Jace. Clary couldn't tell if he wanted to fuck him up or if he just wanted to fuck him. She could seriously relate to either feeling, though.

Valentine nodded at Clary's tiny form. "Get her able to hold her own body off the floor. Maybe then we can consider some fighting lessons."

Clary frowned. He spat out the words like he was speaking about a piece of meat. Jace nodded. He looked her over. "I'm guessing we'll need to do a lot of arm strength."

Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do we need to do that?"

Jace smirked in a way that caused her heart to speed up. She could imagine him smirking over her naked body as they hit the mats hard. He stepped around her and looked at her butt. "Because with that ass, you've got some leg strength already built up."

Clary rolled her eyes. "What about my boobs? Do you need to look at them to see my pecs?"

Jace grinned. "If you're offering." A wave of heat hit her body, and she suddenly wished she'd learn to control these dirty thoughts. He was her foster brother, after all. Though who was she to follow the rules?

"Shut up, Wayland."

* * *

 **A/N: WOW! Eight reviews on my first chapter! You guys need to chill (not really, I like the attention)! I really hope you liked this chapter. I'm working hard and fast. Now, I don't have a beta. If any of you want to be a beta for this story or me in general, please please please let me know! It can be strictly for grammar or could be for the entire story's progression (character development, etc.) My most needed aspect is for just grammar at the moment, though. I hope you guys like this story!**

 **Can we reach five again? I know it seems silly, but these really do motivate me to get off my lazy butt and continue the story.**

 **By the way, some of you all have some really awesome usernames. I wished 12-year-old me would have been more creative.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

"Oh my god, what happened?" Celine gasped when the two walked in the door.

"She pulled-,"

"Correction, he made me pull!"

"She pulled just about every muscle in her body," Jace snorted. The world bounced as he moved to the couch and dropped her unceremoniously. Her tender bottom screamed in protest.

"Forget that, everything is so sore!" Clary groaned. Celine's already pale face grew paler. She hurried to Clary's side.

"Is there anything I can do for you? What do you need?" Celine asked, grabbing Clary's hands. She busied herself by feeling her forehead for a temperature. Don't ask Clary why. She had no idea why the woman was treating her like she was ill. Clary leaned up slightly and met Jace's eyes. He nodded.

They'd made a deal. If Clary helped Jace hide the poles to bar his window shut, he'd owe her big time. All Clary had to do was distract Celine long enough for him to stash them somewhere. His purpose behind keeping the window open was unclear to Clary. He didn't seem intent on running away. So why?

When Clary asked him late at night as they washed the dishes, his only response was, "Maybe I'll show you one of these days."

. . .

For the entire week, a routine had been formed. Celine made breakfast in the mornings. Clary argued with Jace over the shower. He offered for her to join him. She became tempted to accept, but overall declined every time. They went to school. She sat with Simon at lunch. He talked her leg off at lunch. Isabelle urged her to take off her shirt so she'd stand a chance against Jace with her distractions. Isabelle and her walked into cafes and bars to meet cute guys or, in Isabelle's case, toy with them. That always offered something new, but it was never as rewarding as she'd wanted it to be. Clary would then rant about her infuriating adventures with Jace. He always did something newer and more aggravating than the day before, and Isabelle heard everything. Her favorite story still was when he slammed her into the private storage closet. Kinky, she'd said. Sometimes, they'd go into a store. Iz would buy half of it, flirting with the cashier long enough for Clary to steal the other half. It was Isabelle's idea. She reminded Clary of one of Jonathan's many ex's – a strong independent yet defiant woman who knew she was hot and used it to her advantage. Clary went home unfulfilled. Jace came home even later angry, always angry. Celine didn't question where either of them had been. Stephen arrived in time for dinner. He kissed Celine on the cheek. He talked to Jace about sports. He asked Clary how her day went. Clary always said swell, taking the word from the dictionary for old-timers. Stephen pretended not to notice. Stephen and Celine snuggled up on the couch, finding a movie to watch or books to read. They offered for Clary and Jace to join. They both declined. They did the dishes, both secretly eyeing Celine and Stephen as they flirted with each other well into their marriage.

She'd lived this routine for an entire week with no sign of Jonathan. Clary even sent a letter to Big Bev, who she knew was secretly sweet at heart and kept tabs on his living situation. Big Bev sent it back without explanation. Friday, it was all she could do to hold herself together long enough for her last period. Despite Jace's smug form as he demanded a hundred crunches, he worked up a sweat in her, one that released a good amount of her frustration. At lunch, she held the crumpled, unread letter in her hands, rereading it like it'd magically have a response underneath written in his messy handwriting, signed in purple pen.

"What are you reading?" Simon asked, peeking above her shoulder.

 _Jonathan, it's Clary. I'm going insane here, but I'm safe. Are you? Meet me at our spot Friday night, okay?_

"It's nothing," Clary crumpled the paper up. She looked at Simon. He was staring at her deeply, in a way that made her uncomfortable. He was always like this. She didn't know why. It was sort of amusing.

"So what's your favorite villainess?" Simon asked out of random. It was one of the qualities she liked best about him. He could think of a new topic in a second. Clary paused to think about it, but then her routine was graciously interrupted. A shadow fell at her feet.

Isabelle stood tall and proud in front of the two. Her heels made her hips reach Clary's head. Clary stood up, but they still nearly reached her chest. "Hey Simon," she said before directing her attention on Clary. Simon squeaked inaudibly. "So Clary, a few people are coming to my house tonight to hang out. You want to come? You can bring Simon."

"Uh," said Simon. Clary rolled her eyes and stomped on his foot.

"When? Celine and Stephen may try to give me some type of curfew." Clary sighed.

"Ten," Isabelle sighed, her eyes pleading Clary's. "We've got vodka and beer. You need some alcohol."

Clary thought for a few seconds. The offer was very enticing. Considering Jonathan rejected her offer, she didn't have anything else to do. Now she just had to determine how to get to her house unnoticed. An idea sprang into her head.

"Can I bring an annoying asshole?"

. . .

Clary shivered beneath his touch. She didn't understand _why_ he made her feel this way. He was the most attractive man alive, but plenty of girls were able to resist him. Okay, one. Isabelle said he was too much like her brother. It was unclear if that counted as resisting. Still, there surely had to have been other girls.

"How many girls have you been with?" Clary blurted out at random. His grip faltered and Clary felt the weight of the bar fall back into her hands. With a grunt, she was able to press it above her head, but it was not permanent. Her arms shook dangerously. They were locked in place, but that wasn't a good thing. Jace's hands grabbed to the outside of Clary's. He easily lifted the bar and its weights like it was nothing. He placed it back on the hook above her head and leaned over top of it, forcing his golden gaze upon her emerald one. Today, his eyes were just as dull as ever. It was a shame. Thousands of images flew by in her head of what she imagined his smile would be, the way it lit up his eyes. She was starting to wonder when the last time he genuinely smiled was. It had to have been long before he was placed into foster care, but even then, she doubted he ever was a smiling kid.

"What kind of question is that?" Jace asked. He never gave an easy answer. She had to fight him for it, always.

"I'm curious. I've had a shitty day and you almost crushed me. Appease me, please." Clary batted her eyes and pressed a fake smile to her lips. He snorted and sighed. Everyone else was working out today as well, as they always do on Fridays. Jace grabbed two dumbbells and handed them to Clary. He grabbed much larger ones for himself. They did reps of ten.

"Why do you care?"

Clary shrugged. "You seem like a sex god. At least, that's what Isabelle said everyone is saying." She flexed her fingers. "But I have my doubts."

Jace paused. His eyes glared dangerously at her. "Coming from the girl who's probably never had an orgasm before?"

She blushed, smirked, and looked away.

"Oh you have?"

She rolled her eyes and put the dumbbells down, shoving him lightly with her shoulder. "I'm sixteen, Jace. Not six, like you clearly think so."

Jace stopped as well with a huff of air. It blew his scent her way. Though he was sweaty and had been stuck in school all day, the musky, deep scent filled her insides with warmth. It gave her the urge to grin, which was slightly annoying when she thought about it. His eyes licked up and down her body. "You're definitely not six, sweetheart."

A small smile slipped past her guard, and he didn't miss it, either. She shot it down and rolled her eyes. "Can you help me with something?" He narrowed his gaze. "Isabelle is having a couple people over. If we sneak out through your window, we both can go."

Jace stood. He made his way to the mat. Clary followed, hoping for a good answer. "Here's an idea: ask Celine."

Clary groaned. "It's not like I'll be returning home in a good state."

A devious grin found its way to Jace's striking face. "You should have started with that one, Red."

She shrugged. "What are we doing here?"

" _We_ are going to teach you how to fight," he smirked. The blood drained from her face. Jace held his hands up in surrender. "Don't be scared. Just show me what I'm working with."

Clary raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "I get to _hit_ you? For free? Did I win the lottery?"

Jace rolled his eyes. He shoved his curls backward, away from his face. Despite the smell of feet and sweat, and the low fraud lighting, she felt the sudden urge to both lick and draw his face, in that order. His jawline was defined by a prominent brow that hid his eyes, darkening them further. His cheekbones made his face pop. The real stoppers were his lips. They were plump and of decent size. She could imagine the way he'd feel kissing down her neck, down her chest. He breathed out a breath of air. She wished he'd breathe it on to her.

 _God, she was messed up in the head._

Jace held up his hand. Clary fisted her own and readied herself to hit him. She'd been in a few fights before. She swung, and when she hit his hand, it caused her more pain than him. She shook her hand out. Jace chuckled. "Not bad. Don't tuck your thumb inside. Don't just swing your whole body at me, either."

"Why not? I need power," she hissed, still shaking out her hand. Jace's eyes turned intuitive.

"Let's spar." He decided. Clary gulped. Her eyes grew wide as she stepped a foot away from him. Jace took his stance. Maybe she could get a kick in on him. She faked a punch and threw her leg at him. He caught it long before she came close. Suddenly, she was spinning on to the ground, and his hot hands were moving up her leg, and then pushing into her shoulder. Clary took deep breaths to slow her racing heart. She looked up. Jace was on top of her. The leg she used to kick him was pressed against the floor by her head, and Jace's whole body was right in her face. His scent overwhelmed Clary, and his eyes were finally burning with that brightness she'd been searching for. He was smiling a small, true grin. "You're flexible. We can use that."

Clary fought back a shudder. She could imagine him saying those words to her under a different context. "Good job. You beat an untrained girl half your size."

Jace smirked. His hand reached toward her face as he moved red locks away from her eyes. "When I have you stretched out like this, you're at least three fourths of my height," he raised an eyebrow at her. Clary rolled her eyes. "What would you do to escape from this?"

Clary looked over their position. Aside from how sexual it was she saw some flaws. "I'd knee you in the balls, that's what I'd do."

Jace paled. "Do that and you'll see some real punishment, shortcakes." He let go of her leg and hopped up, offering her a hand. She took it, but he pulled so hard she fell straight into his chest. Clary could feel his muscles through his thin shirt. Her eyes could practically envision his chiseled abs. Her breathing thinned. Heat swirled around the two of them. Jace's grip on her hand tightened. "Careful." Clary jerked her head in a nod, but their faces were so close. She wanted to do something that was certainly not careful.

A high-pitched voice sounded from behind them. Isabelle cleared her throat. Jace dropped his hand, and Clary pushed away from him roughly. She stood at his side, hands crossed defiantly over her chest. "I'm going to try to forget that," Isabelle shook her head. "Are you coming, Clary?"

"As long as we don't get caught," she said. "Did Simon say if he was coming?"

Iz shrugged. "I think he said if you were coming. He's a nerdy kid, huh?"

Clary snorted. "You have no idea."

. . .

The rusty metal squeaked in the chilling air, but it blended in with the howling wind. Clary shivered. Jace stepped through the window with more grace than she had. She watched with envy as he flexed his shoulders and stood to full height. His eyes loomed over her body.

"You wouldn't be cold if you wore some clothes," he snickered. Heat rose into her cheeks, and she wrapped her arms around her body. She was wearing a dark red crop top that faded into black with small holes over the front of it. Her black jean shorts were little, and her black combat boots added a little height to her small frame. She rimmed her eyes with black previously in the day. Her curls were bouncy and falling to her shoulder, though they offered very little to shield the wind. Clary looked at him, halfway between pissed and prissy.

"I'm so sorry to offend you with my body," she flipped him off and started down the stairs. Jace snorted. Something hit her back. She turned around and stared at a black sweatshirt.

"Maybe this will keep nerd boy's eyes off you," Jace walked past her without further explanation. That brought so many questions to mind. She couldn't think of a time when Jace had even met Simon. Nevertheless, she pulled his sweatshirt on. It offered sweet relief to the stinging pain. She pulled it around her nose and mouth, inhaling softly every few steps. It smelled just like him. With his sexy form leading her along and his scent surrounding her, Clary felt the urge to cling on to him and never let go, to do more things with their mouths than just speak. The mere thought of him touching her anywhere made her arch her back and curl her toes in pleasure.

Jace was her foster brother, and that meant nothing to her. He was a bad boy. He was a sexy, unexplained hot mess that had her wrapped around his fingers. Jace had a dark charm, a dark glow around his body, and it had swallowed her whole. He didn't make sense to her. She knew nothing about him. It made the lust so much more irresistible.

Jace and Clary walked together silently. Most of the way, she focused on the hoodie giving her warmth. Her head was down. She watched Jace's feet, following his guidance. But then things started looking familiar to her. The bricks had less cracks in them. Fewer people begged for money. Less trash crinkled under her feet. She looked around.

It was her old neighborhood.

Jace stopped, but she didn't care. The only thing she was focused on was the charred, broken, burnt apartment building standing directly across the road. Her eyes were fixated on it, holding her to an unspoken trance. She kept moving forward.

Jonathan would be there. They'd meet up, and he'd lift Clary off her feet. He'd swing her around like a little kid. He'd make sure she was okay. They'd spend hours debating his newest girlfriend. Together, even as rain or snow poured down through the fallen roof, it'd be a numbing cold, a cold Clary welcomed. When it was time to go, he'd pull out a little gift for her. No matter what it was, it was exactly what she needed. As cars whooshed around her, Clary could see the gift being placed on her hand. It'd be a pair of earphones to block out Celine's incessant talking. It'd be a keychain to hold her apartment keys. It'd be –

"Clary!" Jace grabbed hold of her arm. The heat brought her back to reality. His hand burned her as he pulled her back. She fell to her feet, skinning holes into the elbows of his sweatshirt. A car's horn sounded in the near distance, growing quieter. A stinging pain coursed through her arms.

She whipped her head upward. Jace grabbed her by the arms and pulled her off her feet. "What's wrong with you? Did you miss the cars streaming past you?"

Clary yanked her arms out of his. "Don't touch me."

"I think I just saved your life," he continued to scream. Clary bit her lip to keep from punching him, just because she knew he'd see it coming.

"I didn't ask you to." She hissed. She tore his sweatshirt off her body. "I don't need taken care of."

Stuffing the shirt into his arms, she looked at the now clear road and stormed away. Isabelle's house – mansion – was two buildings down from Clary's home. She held her breath as she passed, forcing her head not to turn and stare until she saw what she wanted to see. Jonathan wasn't coming back for her. She'd never see what she wanted to see. Nobody was coming back for her.

* * *

 **A/N: Ouch, we've got a piss poor Fray. Guys, you are the best! It brightens my day to see three, four, and eight reviews in my inbox! And the follows and favorites are crazy! I really am glad you are enjoying this story.**

 **Any questions? Where do you all think I'm going with this? I'm working on my plot lines mainly at the moment. I tend to stray from it a lot. I think this should be a good plot, though. What do you think will happen with Clary's brother? With Simon? With Isabelle? And where the heck is Magnus?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

 **Sorry for the shortness, but are you ready for some CLACEEE?**

* * *

To say Isabelle was surprised to see Clary was an accurate description. Actually, it was her outfit she was surprised with. "Damn girl-,"

"Where's the alcohol?" She asked. Isabelle giggled and pointed to the corner. Alec was sipping a beer, talking to two kids. Simon was behind the bar, pouring himself a drink. Clearly, he'd never drank before.

Clary threw her purse on the couch and walked up to him before he took a drink. She stole it out of his hands. "You put enough vodka to kill an Irishman." Clary grumbled. She grabbed the orange juice and poured half a cup in. Then, she took a big gulp, and three more when she couldn't feel it.

"Are you okay, Clary?" Simon asked, his hand resting on her arm. She jerked away at the coldness of his fingers.

"I'm fine," she grumbled.

"Clary?"

She'd recognize that voice anywhere. Standing beside Alec was two of her old foster friends. The last time she'd seen them had been two years ago. Maia Roberts, Jordan Kyle, and Clary had all been in a group home together. It was for only a month or so. She remembered hearing the creak of the door every night as Jordan slipped into Maia's bed. Clary found it scandalous, but she was secretly envious of the relationship the two shared. They were both a year older than her, but they treated her like a kid. They were her only friends in that house.

Clary nearly choked on her drink. Maia walked towards her slowly. "Can I have a hug?"

She nodded and set her drink down. Maia's arms nearly squeezed the death out of her, but she enjoyed it. Clary surprised Jordan with a hug, something she doubted he'd been expecting. Maia whistled. "You've made some real progress, kid."

Jace must have arrived. His back was to them as he got himself a drink. Then he started a conversation with Alec. Clary lifted her lips in a small smile. Isabelle joined her side with a lot of energy. Her arms slung around Clary's shoulders, and she jumped slightly. "What progress?"

Maia looked at Isabelle as if she were crazy. Clary took control of the conversation first. "How do you know these two psychos?" She shrugged out from under Isabelle's arm, grabbing her drink again. Eyes followed her as she drank.

"It's a long story." Iz laughed. "Basically, this guy I met around here one night is friends with them. I haven't seen him in forever, but I did get to meet these two."

Maia frowned. "Doesn't Clary know-?"

"You guys have to try this drink Jace made!" Simon ran into the group, shoving Maia and Isabelle both to the ground at once. "It's sooo good!" His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he spoke. The energy was buzzing in that boy. Clary laughed nervously. Isabelle grew a smile and made her way to where Jace was mixing a drink.

"Have you guys turned eighteen yet?" Clary asked.

Jordan nodded with a grin. "I have. She technically lives in a group home, but they never notice she's missing during the day."

Clary whistled. "What do you do now?" She was itching to ask if they'd reconnected with her brother, what he did these days. Jonathan had very limited skills, as did she. It left a queasy feeling in her stomach. Clary gulped down the rest of her drinks. She didn't want to think about the future now. She was already alone enough. That she would soon have to start paying taxes and all of the shit most young adults didn't actually have to do until after their mommy's and daddy's stopped feeding them college funds scared her more than life itself.

"I work at a foster care youth center. I also have a few side jobs here and there to help pay the bills," Jordan said. "You have no idea how hard saving up for anything is. Thank goodness I'm not headed for college."

Maia laughed and sipped at her drink passively. "Where's Jonathan? We assumed when you got into that fight it was to get placed with your brother again."

Clary forced a tight smile on her lips. She had been excited at their arrival back into her life, but they knew too much. They were touching on too many raw topics. "We did, but he aged out."

"So why did you switch-?"

Clary crumpled her cup. "Sorry, I have to pee really bad. I'll be back!" She ran off to the bathroom in hope of some sort of peace and quiet.

She was surprised she managed to find a bathroom with the maze of a mansion she was in. Halls turned into rooms that had multiple doors that led to other halls and bedrooms. Clary's head was spinning by the time she got to a bathroom. Standing in front of herself in the mirror, she took deep breaths. Her eyes were bloodshot. Red kissed her cheeks. Her skin was glowing. It was the alcohol.

"You can handle your past." The need to puke was strong. Her tiny frame seemed weak in this mirror, weaker than it ever has before. Was it true? Could she handle it? Saying it out loud gave her an idea of what it'd sound like coming from an honest person. With a shallow breath she brushed strands of hair from her eyes and nodded.

When she found her way back to the living room, she immediately headed over to the drinks. Jace was sipping on a beer. "Any special requests, Red? Want a little rubber added in it since you're so intent on seeing the underside of a tire on your face?"

Clary had enough. "Fuck off, Jace. I zoned out. I have the right to lose myself a little."

Jace shrugged. "Never said you didn't." Clary gripped the vodka bottle tightly as she poured herself a drink. She wished he'd leave her alone already. He was visibly tempting enough, but every time he opened that mouth? It was like he'd brought her seconds from climax and suddenly disappeared, replacing himself with an old, bat shit-crazy, racist man. "I apologize if my body distracted you, Clary. Next time, I'll cover up some more, possibly with a blindfold and gloves."

Clary wanted to smash the bottle into his face. She would have had it not been half full. Instead, she took a large gulp from her mixture, slammed the empty cup on the table, and stepped right up to his chest. Her eyes burned with rage and alcohol. "If your only remaining family member up and leaves you because he now has better options than the clingy little lonely sister, and you walk by your deserted family home – the one place you used to have good memories– and you don't get a little misty eyed, you have serious problems." She curled her lip back. Jace's face went from smirking to a level of seriousness she'd never seen so intense on somebody before. She shoved against his chest. "You're such an incredibly heartless ass, Jace Wayland. I pity the girl you ever end-,"

"Enough!" Isabelle suddenly shouted. Clary snapped her head to the side. Everyone was staring at them. She realized how angry she'd been, and how little was caused by Jace alone. Her hands fell back to her sides, and she got off her tiptoes. "You two have been fighting, like, since we met."

"It's all the hot tension between them," Maia snickered, cuddling into her boyfriend. Clary felt that wave of envy she'd felt back in her room with Maia, only now it was intensified by the tenfold. She wanted that. His arms held her so tightly, and that's all Clary wanted. It was all she needed. She wanted somebody to tell her that she didn't have to worry, that he'd take care of it all for her. Even if it wasn't true, and even if it was only to get in her pants, she wanted that feeling. She wanted it so badly.

"Ew, they're siblings," Isabelle pretended to gag.

" _Foster_ siblings," Maia corrected knowingly. Jordan and she had technically been foster siblings. They both knew how meaningless the term 'siblings' was in their situation.

"Even if they weren't, Clary wouldn't be dumb enough to fall for him," Simon said, slurring his words only a little.

"Hey, I'm not dumb!" Clary protested. "Oops."

Jace still hadn't spoken a word. Simon's eyes stared into Clary's, but they weren't the pair she was itching to look at. However, they were debatably the most hurt among the group of friends. Isabelle didn't understand her slip up. She giggled and threw out her next leadership message.

"I want to party, not listen to them scream their heads off!" Isabelle said.

"Why don't you lock them in closet, Iz? Maybe that'd be best," Alec said sarcastically. It didn't matter the intentions. Isabelle liked the idea. Her grin grew wide.

"In the closet!"

It turned out the closet was right behind them. On that note, Jace didn't have good footing or time to fight back. Jordan and Maia got him in the closet while it only took Isabelle to shove Clary inside.

It also didn't help that they were both slightly tipsy.

"Hey!" Clary banged on the door. Jace groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"They're drunker than we are. Do you really think they'll let us out?" he muttered. Clary sent him her death glare.

"Well you could help," she muttered but fell back against the door herself. Jace was staring at her. There was hardly any light in there at all, but the glow of his golden eyes had grown since he drank a little liquid courage. She sighed heavily and stared right back at him. She felt the need to say how gorgeous his eyes were when they glowed bright, but she knew why they didn't glow all the time. Neither of them had to say it. They both lived in the system for too long not to understand without words the many struggles. "Are your both of your parents dead?"

Jace tilted his head, eyes studying her like an enemy. "Yes."

Clary exhaled a breath of air. "Mine died when I was eleven."

"And your brother?"

Clary felt the need to be closer to speak to him. She crawled right beside Jace dejectedly. "He left me, too." Jace didn't say anything. He handed her his half-empty bottle of vodka. She chuckled miserably and took a swig, forcing the bitter liquid down her throat. "I just wanted to speak to him. I know he didn't move out of the city. I was going to meet up with him tonight."

"Instead, you're here," Jace said. Clary nodded sadly. Her eyes wandered past his face for the first time since she'd laid eyes on him. His shirt was a low cut thin material. Underneath the pendent hanging from his neck was his smooth skin. Black ink disarrayed the pale color in a beautiful way. Her finger itched to pull his shirt down to see the rest of the design. Jace followed her gaze.

"You've got them everywhere," she muttered, noticing slips of black tails peeking past the sleeve of his sweatshirt, wrapping tightly around his wrist. His ankles had black on them as well, but not in the same designs as his upper body.

Jace nodded. He pulled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, exposing more of the design. Clary's breath caught. It was so Jace. The Polynesian design had been altered. It had jagged lines and abrupt ending. Every corner and tail was like a kick or punch from Jace, alarmingly unseen and altogether deadly.

"When did you get these?" Clary whispered, like it was a secret. Jace let the sleeve fall, and she moved her eyes back to his while mentally remembering the pattern.

Jace ran a hand through his hair. "I had to do something to hide the bruises."

In that single line, her perspective on him changed. It wasn't that he'd been beaten that attracted her. It was the idea that there was a justifiable reason he acted like a dick. Clary's eyes started to water, but she could at least blame it on the alcohol. Jace flexed his hands and looked away, but Clary didn't. She climbed on to his lap, pressing both hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her.

"What are you doing?"

She bit her lip. "Imagining you with bruises all over your face." Jace let out a snort. She muttered dejectedly. "I suppose the worst scars are only seen in your eyes."

Jace's eyes, duller than ever, sparked a light in hers. He challenged her. The way he glared made her think she'd overstepped. Clary ran a finger down his face slowly, and she enjoyed the way the glare slowly began to fade. "You're drunk."

She shook her head. "Only enough for me not to hate you."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Obviously, that'd have to be a lot."

"You're right."

He looked away for a while, thinking. When he looked back, Clary saw a flicker of light form in his eyes. It died out, of course, but it was there, if just for a moment. A pained expression crossed over his features as Clary slid closer.

"You want to go somewhere?"

She stretched out her arms. Jace watched her as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm good right here."

Jace nodded. Clary felt the world fade out. She'd never slept so well before. Even when it felt like voices were murmuring above her, and her world became shaky, her deep sleep didn't fade. She felt safe and tired. It was a rare combination for her.

It wasn't morning when she woke. It wasn't in her room either. "Wake up, Red," Jace's angelic voice whispered by her ear. The curiosity intrigued her. The cold awoke her. She shot upright, groggy and very disoriented. Jace's hand landed on the small of her back, stabling her while also sending a shot of fire through her veins. She melted into his touch. When she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she realized it still very dark.

"I can't see anything." She said, and her voice sounded odd mixed with the sleep. Jace produced a flashlight. He shined it at her face first, then his, and finally offered it to Clary. She shone the light all around them, and instantly she knew where they were. The charred rose pink turned red walls gave her a false sense of comfort. Nearly unrecognizable furniture surrounded Jace and her. They sent an idea of what this place had looked like back into her head, and she filled in all the missing memories. "We're home."

Jace cleared his throat. "If your brother wouldn't join you, I figured somebody needed to."

"How did you know I wanted to be here?" she whispered as she tried to rise to her feet. Clearly, she still had alcohol in her system and sat back on the floor. Jace was beside her. She could feel the heat rippling off his body, begging her to join him.

"You either needed to face your fear here or you missed it," Jace said. "I was expecting the former, but I'm pleased to see you enjoy this place."

Clary snorted. A cold wind howled down through the open roof. She jumped and slid into Jace's side. He wrapped an arm around her waist without a second thought. That action vaguely reminded her of Jonathan. He used to do that for her.

"Thank you," she sighed. Jace chuckled. He took off his hoodie and handed it to her. Clary shook her head. He smirked and forced her head through it. She squealed with laughter and squirmed away from his gasp. She fell and landed with a squeal of alcohol in his lap. Her body sprawled out on the floor, head resting on his legs, and she conceded with a sigh. Her eyes stared up at the non-existent stars. Jace's hands moved hair out of her eyes. He was staring at her. She shut her eyelids and reminisced.

"What are you thinking about, Red?" Jace whispered, but it sounded like he was the only voice talking in the entire world, directly into her ear. She shivered and hugged her arms.

"When we were little, my mom and dad used to bring us up to the roof when we'd complain about not seeing the stars, that they didn't like us. They bought a telescope and proved to us that the stars watched over us even when we didn't know they were ever there at all," Clary sighed. Jace's hands slowly warmed up her face as he ran his fingers down to her face and neck, then back up. She opened her eyes and stared into his golden pools. "Do you agree?"

Jace nodded, eyes softening. "I do."

Clary bit her lip. Then, she softly smiled. Jace took his time about it, but he smiled for the first time ever. It was heart stopping, but not in a lustful way. He was such a beautiful human being. His face was crafted elegantly to hold so much and still glisten. So many things struggled to push back the glow of the sun coming from his eyes, but sometimes they pushed back even harder and shone through. In the dim light, they twinkled with peace, a rarity for him.

"Why do you think they left me?" Clary wondered aloud, not intending for him to hear or care. "What did I do?"

Jace's hand moved to Clary's hand. He rested his warmth over her frozen winter, and it made just the smallest difference. "I used to ask that a lot." Jace mumbled, but he didn't continue. Clary looked at him expectantly.

"And?"

He shrugged. "And I still don't know the answer."

His words sounded similar to hers, but something tugged at her mind for the rest of the night. Jace may have been an ass now, but she didn't think any child could do anything to deserve being kicked around like a punching bag. Nothing he did could have angered somebody enough to make them hit him, not then. Even though she wanted to hit him, she never would want to _hurt_ him. Something had surely been wrong with his parents, not him.

It made her wonder. Was that the case for her as well?

* * *

 **A/N: Lol, I love you. I love you, the person reading this very much. Your review made my day, as always. You know who you are! The mere idea that there could be so many reviews on my story in one chapter astounds me. What did you all think of this? How was the Clace here? It's a tad bit different than what they have been before, but things have to change eventually.**

 **To answer a few questions: 1) Stephen and Céline are not Jace's parents in this. I probably should have made this clearer. I just figured why not have the roles reversed where they aren't the parents but they do get to raise/live with him? Also, I don't remember much about Céline or Stephen's characters, so I created my own. You like? I adore Céline! Stephen not so much. Also, my computer won't let me type the accent mark. :(**  
 **2) Haha, a while ago, I said my next story would be called Hate Sex, revolving around the idea of friends with benefits minus the friend part. While I am still trying to make this a one shot, that's not the case AT ALL here. I thought of that before I had FWB sex, where I learned that, yes, there really are no emotions or whatever and it's quite boring. Lol TMI, sorry, I'll stop talking.**

 **I'd love love love to see double digits in the review box! If you're not feeling up to that, create yourself an account or login and follow/fav me! You have no idea how awesome it is to get a review comparing one of my stories to another one of mine. Ah, I feel somewhat famous. HAHHAHA**

 **feel beautiful ~ reader-chic-2**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

The pounding would not stop. It echoed, too. A gong was being set off repeatedly in Clary's head. When she opened her eyes, she became blind, if only for a moment. The light streaming through the window gave her a hell of a time adjusting to it. "Clary?" Came a singsong voice. Its shrill musical tone made her ears bleed.

The thing was that she wasn't even that hung-over. Sure, she had a headache and some sensitivity, but she woke up in a shitty mood not because of that but because of that damn tuneful voice. "Claryy?" Clary nearly fell off the bed in her haste to open the door and shut Celine the hell up. She yanked it open with a look of death.

"What."

Celine's cheery expression faltered at her bedhead and lack of clothes. She was only in a t-shirt, nothing else. Celine was dressed in yoga pants, a bright pink sports bra barely concealed behind a matching neon green and pink tank top. Her hair was pulled up high in a tight ponytail, and the tennis shoes she wore were, you guessed it, neon pink with green laces. She smiled unsurely at Clary. "Jace, Stephen, and I were going to the football field for a family run. Would you like to join?"

Clary was in no mood to satisfy her picture-perfect family needs or her naive ideas. "I don't run."

Celine's face fell. She nodded. "Don't be afraid to join in late." She hesitated. "We don't bite."

Clary nodded curtly and shut the door when she turned her back. With a heavy sigh, she knew she wouldn't be falling back to sleep any time soon. Running a hand through her hair, she was startled to find crumbles of leaves in it. Deeming that justified a shower, she made her way to the bathroom, yawning as she entered. Clary stared at herself in the mirror. Her red tangles seemed knotted in every different direction.

The door opened. Jace shut it behind himself. He looked her up and down and smirked. "The holes are a nice touch, sweetheart," he smirked. Clary glanced down. The thin t-shirt she wore had holes in it, as if she'd had some bad road burn in it. Clary smiled and shrugged, looking suggestively at Jace.

"I stole it from a guy at a party because I couldn't find my dress. He had a motorcycle."

Jace checked her out in a way that sent a fire into the pit of her stomach. "Damn. Sure it wasn't me?"

Clary snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "You had a motorcycle?"

Jace, standing behind her, reached over her shoulder and into the cabinet. Clary felt his body pressed into her backside. Her breath caught, and she didn't doubt he did it on purpose just to hear her breath falter. "Built it myself. Why? Does it turn you on, Red?"

Clary spun around, leaning against the counter. Jace applied his deodorant and stepped forward again. This time, he stepped right between her legs. Just to see the affect she had on him, her hands shot out and stopped him from stepping back. Jace's pupils dilated as he stared at their bodies connected together.

"I just love riding things," her voice came out husky. Jace let out a grunt, and it filled Clary with the urge to hear more from him. With a wink, she slipped out from under him and walked to the shower. "Have fun on your run, Jace."

With her back to him, Clary pulled her shirt off her body and bent over to turn the water on. Jace groaned, falling back into the door. With a smile, she stepped into the water and slid the curtain shut.

"I'll be thinking about you, Fray."

"Promise?"

The door closed, and Clary burst into a fit of glee-filled giggles. Her hand flew to her mouth. She was smiling, and laughing. It was early in the morning and she was relatively happy, even for only a few moments. It was slightly alarming.

After her shower, she headed down to the field like Celine had suggested. Clary thought about Jace's flirty words. Was he thinking about her now? She leaned against the chain-link fence. On the field, Jace, Celine, and Stephen were doing sprints. They all seemed winded, which made her conclude they'd done a longer jog earlier. Tucking her legs under thighs, she watched and drew, watched and drew. It went on for at least an hour.

Celine was smiling as she ran, falling behind the two men quickly. Clary was alarmed to see them coming straight for her. Jace's golden glare focused on her, kissing her with heat in the cooling winter air. Stephen kept glancing at Jace and the finish line, which apparently was Clary. As the two came hurdling at her, she squealed in alarm. They slowed up just yards before her and crashed into the fence.

Two panting men dripped sweat directly onto her heavily drawn notebook. Her still clenched eyes slowly peeled open. Jace and Stephen were laughing, watching her unfold with hesitancy. "Scare you, Red?" Jace asked, ruffling her hair. Clary reached out to slap his hand away, but he was already darting out of the way. Stephen glanced down at her book.

"You should really try exercising, Clary. It's much healthier than doodling your life away," Stephen swiped at the sweat beading above his upper lip. It fell inches from Clary's arm. She cringed and scooted away. "You're not always going to have that little body of yours."

His comment made Clary's blood run cold. Her hands tightened around her notebook, clutching it closer to her chest. Stephen laughed and jerked his head to Jace in the direction of Celine. She was sitting. He jogged to her.

Jace bit his lip, all laughter gone. "What are you drawing?" He leaned down to grab her notebook, but she shook her head. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his sweaty curls. "Clary, you know you're more than just your body. Stephen is…"

"Stephen is just like the rest of them," Clary blurted out without realizing she'd said a thing. Jace frowned. He looked over at Stephen and Celine, waving them on without him. They were just stretching. He sat next to Clary.

"Like who?"

Clary rolled her eyes and scoffed. "How long have you been a foster kid?"

"Not long compared to you."

She nodded, her throat closing up as the memories flashed through her mind. It was always the same police department she'd wind up at, in the end. The police report didn't go anywhere. They never had any evidence. Though she was relieved about that aspect, she felt utterly disgusted that the men walked free to harass others in her powerless position, possibly do worse than they had done unto her.

"Ask the next foster girl you meet how many times her foster parent stared at her for a second too long, or touched her hair every time she walked past, or said a compliment that made her skin crawl." Clary said. "You'd be surprised."

Jace's eyes fell. "He'd never-,"

"I hope I'm wrong. Some would, maybe not Stephen." She shrugged, and by the anger in his eyes, she felt the need to say. "Don't worry. They never did anything physical…with me."

Jace sighed. "Fuck."

Clary snorted. "Fuck is right." She shrugged, glancing at Stephen. He was toying with Celine, dangling the shoe far above her head. She was smiling ruefully, like she wasn't just his plaything. "He likes you."

Jace looked at Stephen. Celine, now with both shoes, began to stretch out his leg for him. "Oh joy."

Clary grinned slightly and shoved his shoulder, eyes twinkling at she talked. "Go on. We don't want you pulling a muscle."

Jace got to his feet. He smirked down slyly at her. "It'd make sex quite hard, true, but I'd fight through it for you, shortcake."

. . .

"Hey Iz," Clary bumped into her. She was at her locker, talking to Simon. "Hey Simon."

"Hey, Clary. Did you make it home okay? Did Jace try something on you?" Simon asked, his hand resting on her arm. Clary stepped back and smiled softly.

"Um, yes, why?"

Isabelle bit her lip. "There was some guy stalking around the neighborhood at two in the morning last night. We didn't know who it was. He looked sketchy for our part of town."

"You mean the rich part of town?" Simon asked.

"Shut up," Isabelle elbowed him. Clary and Simon met eyes. She snickered under her breath. Isabelle's eyes got big. "More importantly, did Jace jump you in a _good_ way?"

Clary nearly choked on her own saliva. She felt the blood drain from her face. "What? No." She began to ask something again. "I have to get to class. Let's go, Si."

Clary grabbed his hand and took off down the hall. They wove in and out of the crowd, and by the time they reached class, Simon had woven his fingers between hers. She frowned and pulled away. "Did you do your homework?" Simon asked. Clary sighed. She had no clue they'd had homework. He smiled and pulled out the paper. "Write it down quickly and thank me for saving your butt later."

Clary spent most of class copying it down as the teacher whined on and on about something that flew right over Clary's head. She got it turned in, though. When class dismissed, Clary found Simon and threw her arms around him. "You're the best nerd out there, Si," she kissed his cheek, rubbed his head, and walked to class.

Isabelle caught up with her in the hall. She shook her head and whistled lowly. "I just passed Simon staring at a wall with a grin like a thirteen year old boy who just saw his first pair. What did you do to him?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you, the girl he can't stop staring at." Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Clary, it's painfully obvious. The boy's infatuated with you."

"I don't do relationships, Iz." Clary huffed. The last time she could remember ever officially 'dating' a boy was in middle school, but that Clary was long gone. Since then, she'd had a few one-night stands, and a few boys she'd gotten to know and liked, but they'd never used such official terms. Even now the word seemed like it didn't belong in her world. It wouldn't survive.

Isabelle shrugged. Clary nudged her side. "What about you? I'd love to hear your latest sex scandal."

Isabelle flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You wouldn't know him. He's older. Though, he does live somewhere in the sketchy side of Brooklyn, so maybe you have met him." Clary snorted. "He and I started out as something casual, but I have him whipped by now."

"Poor guy," she muttered. Isabelle shoved her into the lockers, and Clary grinned back at her. She enjoyed Isabelle's bold sexuality. It was comforting to hear something other than 'You're not a virgin? How? Who? When?'

Isabelle and Simon were growing on her. Alec was still distant and somewhat hostile, though one could argue that was his normal state of mood. She hadn't seen Maia or Jordan since the party, but she was on good terms with them. The only person of concern was Jace.

Her infatuation with him was growing out of control. Shamefully, she pulled out her sketchpad. Her eyes scanned the most recent image, guilt flooding the pages as much as lust. There she had an upper body drawing of Jace Wayland, shirtless, smirking suggestively at her. She could practically see the wink flying her way, feel the way it kissed her cheek and burned her. Her hands clenched until the book began to bend, and she promptly put it away with a heavy exhalation of air.

Within an hour at the track, she had drawn the boy of her dreams, the boy she was living with, the boy who was attempting to steal her mind and heart. She drew him with such accuracy and care that anyone could tell.

Clary wanted him, badly, in more ways than one.

. . .

Celine was bouncing off the walls. Her energy was nearly tangible. Clary stepped out of her way as she flew around the kitchen, straightening things here and there as she went. A murmuring sound came from her mouth, but whatever she said was quickly lost.

Jace was leaned against the fridge, watching Celine with a bored look in his eyes. His arms were crossed, like he was mad. Clary rested beside him and nudged his side. "Something wrong?"

"They're fostering another kid. He's eight." Jace huffed. Clary stifled a giggle. The idea that an eight year old could annoy Jace without having met him seemed ironic considering how macho he liked to act.

"Not all little kids are annoying," Clary said.

"Yes, they are," he groaned and turned to her. His eyes ran over her outfit. "We're staying after school to work on your moves. I'm tired of watching you lose to Isabelle. She's a real bitch about it."

Clary snorted. "Only to you," she teased. Just because the opportunity came around, and she was a bit curious on how he'd handle it, she said, "Sounds like she's flirting. Ooo."

Jace's face turned from pissed to absolutely disgusted. "Iz would be the last person on earth I'd go to, even including you."

For some reason, she was pleased with that answer. She laughed, "Right back at you, Wayland. Let's go. Celine has this under control."

Celine distantly called out to them in goodbye. Clary rolled her eyes and grabbed Jace's arm, pulling him from the fridge. He grunted, shook off her arm, and slipped ahead.

At the gym that evening, Clary spent half of it lifting weights with Jace and the other half sparing both Isabelle and a tiny boy in their class. She lost to Iz, but she just barely won the other, though Jace claimed it was luck.

"Alright, Wayland, throw it at me," Clary winked, squirting water into her mouth while keeping her eyes locked with Jace's. He strode into the room with a collected gate, one that gave Clary the impression he knew something he shouldn't.

"Do you know what you're up against, Fray?" And in an instant, Jace was on her. He threw hands and feet and elbows at her faster than any other opponent. A whirlwind of blonde blew around red, and together the two danced the autumn colors in winter away.

Clary fought and fought. She refused to give in to him and his smug lips. She saw how he was taunting her, but she didn't quit. Her arms were sore and her head was spinning. No, the room was spinning. She didn't stop, even when he'd clearly beaten her. She would play him dirty at that point and that point only. Jace only stopped when he'd pinned her to the floor and Clary finally stopped kicking. Panting, she held her hands up. Her first surrender. Jace smiled pleasantly.

"A smart fighter knows when to give up," Jace said. "But I love the enthusiasm. Cute."

"Don't call me that," she huffed between breaths of air, barely able to open her eyes. Jace still rested on top of her. He supported his own weight effortlessly.

"Why not? You are cute. Your cute little hair matches your cute little shirt…" Jace's hands trailed along her body, setting a line of fire from her already lit hair to her gym shirt that was much too small. Clary noticed his eyes pausing at her chest, but that was barely considered a pause. It got on her nerves. She wasn't cute. She was anything but cute, in fact. Cute was a term for little girls. Cute was not Clary.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt. "Are these cute?" She asked as she pulled her shirt up her body. Jace's form trembled as she slowly pulled it over her head and off, discarding it by his hands. His body sagged, and the weight of his legs fell on to hers.

His face was inches from her chest. She could feel his breath prick at her skin. Electricity flowed so coarsely through her, she feared it would leave a scar on her body. He'd leave a scar inside of her.

"Fuck no," Jace groaned, his face falling all the way to Clary's chest. Before he could make it, she pushed away from his hands, sliding up the floor. His lips fell against her toned stomach. No matter how amazing that felt she kept the jig up.

"I didn't think so," Clary smirked. Her sports bra was a simple black Nike bra. It pushed her boobs up to her ears, though. She began to get up, sliding her body out from under Jace's muscular form. His hands gripped her waist suddenly, and she found that she could not move nor wanted to. The heat was different from the heat of her workout. It was an addicting heat she wanted more of. Jace's lips slid down her stomach until they found the top of her tiny shorts. Clary's eyes grew wide as his lips pressed against the bare skin. Chills ran through her body. She gasped, knowing she didn't have enough restraint to hide her lust much longer.

"I'll see you at home?" Clary said, pulling away from him and to her feet.

Jace began to get up, too. She looked him in the eye and made a kissing expression. Clary grabbed her shirt, throwing it over her shoulder. With a giggle, she waved at Jace. He stared right through her hand at her body. Clary smiled and shut the door behind her.

That foreign feeling appeared in her chest again. She disliked it. Every time it came, she grew nauseous. What was that feeling? Even as Jace's footsteps began behind her, she focused hard on the feeling. It was strong, taking over her heart and mind. Jace's husky voice resonated in her head, and then outside of it, as well. Clary ignored it at first. She still couldn't decide what made this new feeling so wholly good. She wished she could understand it.

A hand snaked around her body. Clary jumped in alarm. Jace didn't let her move away, though. "Either you put on your shirt, or I'm your boyfriend for the walk home."

Clary rolled her eyes. "How very sincerely sexist of you," she mumbled, prying at his hands.

Jace shrugged. "We both know who'd win in a street fight, though I must say you're improving." He glanced at her slyly. "Besides, you tease me too much too much to not want a taste of what you're throwing out there."

Clary couldn't help but throwing her head back in laughter. A light feeling entered her heart, something rare. It left her capable of locking away the scowl. In the chilly night air, she figured a shirt would have done her some good. As they exited the school, she found she definitely needed one. However, she didn't want his arm to disappear. She didn't want to end their (fake) relationship so quickly.

Eyes followed them on the streets. Clary was used to being stared at, but the cold made it worse. She melted into Jace's arms where the wind froze them together. "Still have that hoodie you loaned me?"

If she had any sense in her head at all, she would have changed into her school clothes before leaving. They were in her backpack. But something about the way his eyes looked at her made her wish she had less clothes on. She knew her body was nice, but this was different than the lustful gaze of men. This look was both her body and her mind.

Jace chuckled. He pulled out his hoodie she'd thrown at him not long ago. Blushing, Clary pulled it over her head. The warmth was immediate and needed. Jace began walking, apart from her. Clary joined him and draped his arm around her waist again. She beamed up at him. "You're still playing the part," she said.

His beaming smile grew so big so fast it made Clary's heart clench. The smile was his best feature, and yet he never used it. She supposed that was what made it so heart-stopping, the fact that it was so beautiful and so rare wound together hand in hand.

"My pleasure."

His grip tightened on her waist, and her head rested on his chest as they reached the apartment. Clary giggled. "I like you being my fake boyfriend. The jealousy on girls' faces was amusing."

Jace smirked. He opened the door, "You didn't even get the best part of the Jace Wayland boyfriend package."

Clary looked at him with a devious smile. She wanted so desperately to ask for the best part. "I'll just have to…take care of myself, won't I?" Clary whispered slowly into his ear. As he stood in awe, she patted his chest and walked into the apartment. His groan of pleasure-filled pain let her know she was doing something right.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you guys so much! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far. There's much more to come. It gets good, I promise. Trust me, your answers will all be disclosed further on. Jace is certainly quite the mystery, isn't he? I love to hear your ideas. I will say two of you have guessed correctly on an aspect of the story that will be revealed later on.**

 **I will update soon! In the meantime, check out some of my one-shots to hold you over. I'll make sure I update in three days if we can get TEN reviews again! I love your feedback! It makes my day! Tennn pweaseeee?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

The first thing she noticed was the noise. It was so loud. Clary never had to associate loud with Celine and Stephen. Aside from her constant chatter, Celine didn't go banging around the apartment. All Stephen ever was, was silent.

"Hey!" She yelled, grabbing Jace's attention as well. She entered the kitchen. "What the hell-?"

Her voice was cut off. A small boy was running around the kitchen, testing the strength of cabinets compared to metal pots. Celine scampered after the kid, closing each cabinet gently and hanging up the fallen pots.

"Max! Max, come back!" Celine yelled. A high-pitched shrill came from her mouth, and she stopped chasing him. Her blonde hair cascaded down from its bun. Clary dropped her bag and walked forward, drawing the woman's attention. Her eyes were more stressed than ever. They grew wide at the vision of the two teenagers. She took a deep, hurried breath and wiped at her eyes, producing a pained smile. "Clary! Jace! You're both home so late. Have you met Max? He's a character."

Clary's eyes and mouth slowly opened, until she was staring at Celine like she was a monkey in the ocean. "I see that. Who is he?"

"He's your newest brother!" Celine chirped. "What do you think?"

Jace scoffed from behind her. Clary felt disgusted. "What do we think? He's not a new toy, Celine."

She nodded. "I – I know. Um, Jace, he's staying in your room. I think you'll be a great big brother."

He didn't say anything, but the air moved around her. It stilled, almost, and then buzzed with an energy of disarray. Her nerves were on end. Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "Even with the window?"

Celine waved her hand. "Stephen's fixing it."

Jace scoffed again, and mumbled, "Bull shit," under his breath.

"He's just a little upset today." Celine hesitated, like she didn't know how to say the next phrase. "Erm, his parents _aren't_ dead. So…"

Clary felt her blood run cold. A loud slamming of the door came from the bedrooms. Clary jumped. She spoke with a grating drag to her voice. The words burned her mouth. "So his problems affect him more, right?"

Celine stammered, "No, I just meant –," she huffed and began hastily pulling her hair on top of her head.

"His dad and mom are fighting for custody, and they've both pulled the abuse claims on him." Stephen's sudden arrival made Clary jump. He walked past Jace and Clary to pull Celine in for a hug and kiss. His cold gaze stared Clary and Jace down. "It is a bit more relevant. Wouldn't you agree?"

Clary clenched her fists. She took a step forward, but Jace grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She whirled around to him. The same rage that was in her heart was mirrored in his eyes. His head jerked, telling her no. It wasn't the time. She took a shaking breath, focusing on Jace's defiant gaze in front of her.

"We'll go meet him," Jace growled. He let go of her arm and walked between Stephen and Celine. Clary looked at 'her father,' trying to understand how innocent little Celine could like the cold-hearted Stephen. Even when Celine was ignorantly harsh, at least she could say she didn't know she was hurting them. Stephen just didn't care.

"That spineless, fucked up son a -," Clary grumbled the moment she stepped into the hallway. She grabbed the handle to Jace's room, but it wouldn't budge. She spun around, and Jace was right in her face. His glare was as bad as hers.

Jace tried the door. "He will get what's coming to him."

The feral look in his eyes startled Clary. She grabbed on to his arm. "What do you mean?"

He huffed and motioned for her to step aside. She did and watched him begin to pick the lock. "I mean," he began, grunting as the handle fought against him, "that nobody who watches over me ends up on the bright side of things."

Clary frowned. "Even the good ones?"

Jace sighed. He paused in his work and looked Clary exasperatedly in the eye. "Especially not the good ones."

His golden eyes swirled with a pain that was slowly suffocating him. The glow in his eyes wasn't bright or light. It was dark, black almost. She could see the cloud of resentment hanging above his head, too. His whole world was dark, everything he saw or touched was dark. Clary's hand reached for him. She wanted him to feel something other than this darkness. He jerked away and yanked on the door. It flung open, leaving Clary emptier than ever.

Max was on the bed. He clutched a pot between his legs, but it was upside down. On top of it rested a wide-open comic book. Jace walked in front of him, sizing him up like he was the enemy. Max didn't look up. His dark brown hair and blue eyes reminded him of the glow that most kids had. He wasn't a foster child, not to her. Alec had that same aura in his eyes when he fought in class. Max was engrossed in that comic book.

She recognized the cover. Before Jace could say anything, she sat on the bed next to Max. He stilled but didn't look up. "I used to have the first edition of that."

His eyes were inquisitive, like he didn't know if he should trust her. "You do?"

She nodded and glanced at the page. "It's one of my favorites."

The smile he gave her made Clary's heart jump. He looked so excited by that news. "Dad said he'd buy me the next one on my birthday."

"When is it?"

His smile fell. "Today," he mumbled. Clary swallowed a lump in her throat. She sighed.

"It's okay. It's not any good." She shrugged. "Happy birthday. How old do you think he is, Jace?"

Jace squatted in front of Max. Clary pleaded with her eyes for him to be nice, to be somewhat tolerable. "Hm. Are you fifteen?"

Max snorted with laughter. He giggled, and it was such a pure sound Clary hoped he'd giggle more. "No! I'm nine! I'm not old like you!" His finger pointed at Jace and Clary, and his smile made her smile as well.

"Hey, I take that to offense, mister. Jace is much older than me!" Clary exclaimed.

"Clary, I had no idea you were in to older guys," Jace smirked. Clary rolled her eyes, but she secretly wished he'd continue.

"My sister has a friend named Clary." Max said. Clary frowned.

"Is her name Isabelle? And Alec is your brother?" Clary vaguely remembered Iz mentioning a little brother, but she had no idea this was him. Max nodded.

"But I call her Izzy."

She grabbed his hand. "Where are they now?"

He shrugged. "I asked why they couldn't come meet 'my new family' with me. I don't want a new family. I want them and my mom and my dad. But they are old enough to stay, or something like that." Max rolled his eyes. "I think they just don't like new people."

Clary knew Alec was over eighteen, but she thought Isabelle was her age. Jace glanced at her. "They probably let Iz stay with Alec because she looks twenty." Clary snorted in agreement. "How long are you here, kid?"

He shrugged. "Mom and Dad never hurt me. They just like to lie a lot. I bet I'll be home in one week."

His head ducked down as he continued reading. Jace rose, and Clary did as well. She peered speculatively at him. "What are the odds he was placed with us?"

"Bad luck?" Jace grumbled. Clary glared. He shrugged. "Isabelle knows us. She might have requested our family."

"It doesn't work like that, Jace."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "It does when you have money, shortcake." He ruffled her hair. Clary groaned and shoved against him.

"Asshole," she hissed, walking to the door.

"That's a bad word!" Max yelled in glee. He finished his comic book and started again on the pots, like it was a drum. Despite knowing Jace deserved karma, she knew what it was like to get no sleep. She shut the door behind her and sighed. Max was a good kid, but good people didn't settle well with Jace. She knew that. Hopefully, he'd make it through to the morning.

. . .

Clary didn't really get to sleep that night. Max was up until at least twelve. He claimed he never had a bedtime at his real home. So Celine didn't force anything, and Stephen slept like the dead. When she asked Jace about it, he said he didn't sleep at all. Max talked in his sleep. He insisted on playing music, too. He stayed up until one in the morning talking despite the fact that Jace never said anything back.

Clary put on her concealer, but it didn't make a difference. There was no hiding the lack of sleep on her face. She shrugged and continued on with her eyeliner and mascara. At least her eyes drew most of the attention. As she was finishing up her eyeliner, Max and Jace barged into the room. Her hand jerked and now she had a cat-eye. She groaned.

"Alec likes to talk about your clothes, Jace. He says you wear a lot of black. So does Clary," Max said matter-of-factly. "Even on her eyes. Why do you do that?"

Jace pinched the bridge between his nose and huffed. "Why do you insist on filling any sliver of silence with noisy words?"

Clary rolled her eyes. On the entire walk to school, Max continued talking. When they finally split between the elementary school and the high school, she felt utter relief. The kid was adorable, but Clary could only handle so much of that in her life.

"Maybe school will tire him out today," she hoped. Jace snorted. "Yeah, I didn't think so either." Isabelle was whisper shouting into her phone. Alec rested beside her, listening in when Iz wasn't yelling. Clary's tired eyes looked at Jace. "I know I should be there for her…"

"I dunno. She hasn't lost any spunk yet." Jace shrugged. Simon came running up to them. Jace seemed to think he was a bit too close to him because he stepped away.

He was out of breath. "Clary!" he panted. "Did you hear about Isabelle? Her parents are – and she's so – poor Iz!" Simon hunched over, resting his hands on his knees as he breathed. "Oh, there she is. We should go talk to her."

Jace steered him back to the lockers. "You may want to focus on breathing. I hear it's important."

Simon sneered at him and looked to Clary. His eyes went wide. "Woah. You're eyes!"

"What about them?" Clary asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Simon stood up slowly, unsurely. "It's, just, wow. Surprising. I didn't think you did the whole swoop eye thing."

Clary stared peculiarly at him. Simon seemed so shocked. Clary opened her mouth, but Jace beat her to it. He stepped forward. "I inspired her change. Of course she looks hot enough to make a nerd like you forget she can do whatever the fuck she likes." He shrugged. "See you around, Fray." With that, he rubbed her head, making red curls fall in front of her face. It didn't hide the blush.

Simon watched him walk away sulkily. Clary bit her lip to hold back her grin. "He's so damn self-righteous." But Clary knew he wasn't saying something self-flattering this time. It was his way of embracing her change. A secretive smile spread on her pink lips.

"Clary!" Isabelle waved at her hurriedly, shoving her phone into her pocket. Clary crossed the hall to meet her. "Where's Max? Is he okay?"

Clary nodded. "He's in school. Max is fine. He likes Jace a lot."

Isabelle grimaced. "That's what I was afraid of."

"You knew he'd be sent to us?"

She nodded. "Don't be silly."

Clary blew out a breath of air. She studied Isabelle. Her eyes were frantic, never settling on one thing. The shaking in her hands worried Clary. She rested a hand on the girl's arm and didn't let her step away. "What happened?"

Iz bit her lip, and her eyes seemed much too glossy. She shrugged. Her eyes looked sadly into Clary's. "They both want custody of him. We can choose, but… I never thought they'd stoop so low as to claim abuse, either of them."

Clary sighed. She nodded. "I'm so sorry. You need anything?"

Isabelle shook her head. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "Hey, it's just a little divorce. Alec's apartment is under Dad's name or we'd be able to get Max with us."

"How are you there?"

A small smirk graced her red lips, but it wasn't anything near its potential. "The social worker certainly knew I wasn't a kid by the time he left."

Clary blushed and snorted. "Oh. All right. Do you know when the investigations will be complete?"

Isabelle shook her head and glanced at the emptying halls. "No, but I'm sure you know they take a month or so, right?" She shut her locker. "I have class."

Clary muttered all the curse words she knew, took a breath, and stormed off to class. Damn Isabelle.

. . .

Clary stared at the ceiling. This night, it wasn't Max keeping her up. It was something Simon had said during lunch. He was speaking about his mom and sister. They'd been arguing for the last month over a blouse. He'd had to repeat the situation for her to fully comprehend what made the two stop speaking for a month. It was a blouse. Both said they'd bought it. And now they weren't speaking. Over. A. Shirt.

For the past three and a half weeks, Simon retold, they hadn't said a word to each other. It began to bother him. The house was so quiet.

Clary shivered under her thin cover. Since lunch, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Simon hadn't even noticed when she'd asked him to stop complaining about the silence. He'd even said the word lonely.

Clary closed her eyes, but images flashed through them anyways. It was her seventh birthday. Her dad had promised once she turned seven, she'd get her very own bike. He didn't want to disappoint her one bit. When they stood in front of the endless bikes, Clary felt an overwhelming sensation bubble in her chest. She wound her hand into her father's, took a deep breath, and focused on the task at hand. They'd searched down every single aisle. When she grew discouraged she wouldn't find something that sparked to her, something that set itself apart from the others, she began to cry.

"Sweetheart, why are you crying?" Valentine had asked, crouching down so he could look into her eyes. She flung her arms around his neck.

"It's not here!"

His warm hand rubbed at her back. His strength assured her of his words. "Don't worry, darling. You never find the perfect match first. To gain something comes at a price, otherwise it loses its value."

Sure enough, they searched through another store, and another. It was only when her mother suggested the idea to buy a bare bike and paint it themselves.

Clary had never seen a more beautiful bike in her life. Nothing compared to it. It was rare.

She'd never truly understood her father's words until now. People only found things special because of their rarity. In this world, despite what everyone thought, different was good. It picked you out from the others so that you had that rare desirability.

So why did she feel so alone? Why did her parents leave her? Why did Jonathan leave her? He was supposed to be there for her after the fire. He was her protector. He'd _promised_ to watch after her. He'd _promised._

Clary and Jonathan had stared at the roaring flames for hours. Nobody came to take them away. Nobody came to tell them it'd be okay. It was the two of them, alone. A tear slipped down Clary's cheek. It was the first thing Jonathan had looked at since they'd escaped the burning building.

"You're crying." Clary nodded meekly, not looking away from the flaming embers. It was five minutes of silence before he spoke again. "I'll take care of you, Clary. We survived together. We'll be okay. I'll make it okay."

Clary sighed. She forced her eyes closed, but it didn't make a difference. She could still smell the flames, still feel them burning her face as she watched the building come down.

"I want Daddy," she whispered. She didn't know how Jonathan knew it was his hugs she missed, the kind that made absolutely anything okay because he was there, and he fixed everything. But he knew. And he pulled her into his bear hug so tightly she could never dream of escaping. Clary fell to pieces in his arms, and he kept a strong hold on her through it all.

"I'll protect you from now on, just like Dad. I'm your protector now. I am. I promise." He kept repeating it. It had seared into her brain as she grew up, just like the overwhelming sensations of being a protector at age twelve, and thirteen, and fifteen, and all of his teenage years sank into his.

Clary didn't realize she was curled into herself on the cold bed. The sob that ripped through her body shocked her. Her shoulders shook violently, and she spoke to nobody. "Why? Why do they all leave? What did I do?"

A warm hand shook her arm, and she immediately grabbed it, twisting it in the painful way Jace had taught her. That very man cursed under his breath above her. Clary gasped and let go, sitting up in her bed. "Jace?"

Jace ran a hand through his hair. He looked her over, the tears glistening on her cheeks and the red eyes. He didn't look too hot himself. His hair was all over the place, like he'd never decided on a sleeping position. His black boxers were all he wore, but Clary was too surprised to focus on his body. She rubbed at her arms in the freezing air.

"Scoot over," Jace said. Clary didn't know why she didn't question him. She simply lifted the blanket and made room for him. He scooted in beside the crying girl and pulled her against his chest. Clary resisted, at first. But his warmth was too comforting. It was so strong and sure. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that Jace would promise her he'd be there for her. She didn't need to be taken care of, not anymore. She'd learned to do that long ago. Clary just needed somebody there for her, somebody who was behind her step every second of every day. She needed support.

"Everybody leaves me," she whispered as he ran his hand up and down her arm, trying to warm her up. She didn't have the heart to tell him that you can't warm up a dead soul.

Jace tightened his grip on her arm. "I'm here, Clary."

She sighed. "For now."

"You don't want me around long. People who get close…they always die," Jace whispered. Clary turned to face him. His delicately warm fingers wiped at her face, clearing them of the tears.

"I'll risk death when the alternative is hell." Clary begged. The dull eyes surveyed her with a look of deep pain, deep understanding. "Sometimes, I wished I had died in that fire, too,"

Jace's hands tightened, and Clary swung both legs on one side of him, sitting in his lap. He slid down, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. It didn't matter. He was warming her already with his body and soul. "I should have died. It shouldn't have been her."

Clary studied his face as she stared at her. His eyes had been dark with lust before, but she'd never seen them so dead. The light wasn't just gone. It had been smothered out. "What happened, Jace?"

He produced a smile that wasn't a smile. It died on his lips the moment it appeared. "My father was a psychotic bastard. He'd get angry over anything. Sometimes, my mother didn't dress nice enough. Other times, I lost a fight. The whole town knew. Our bruises were too obvious, but we never told, never dared to cross him. The time I finally won in the ring, his only praise for me was a dull nod. So I didn't go home that night. I went out for a drink. When I did get home, it was late. He was far drunker than I was." Jace paused. His eyes got lost in the memory, focusing just above her head. "But I was still drunk, and angry, and he was kicking my mom. Her eyes…they were so far gone. She always begged me not to fight back, that it'd be over quicker if we just took it. But she couldn't open her mouth to tell me not to. So I fought him. The police," he snorted without humor. "The police came in when I had a knife to his throat. They didn't tell me to stop. They didn't tell me to drop the knife. They knew. They knew what had to be done, and I did it."

Nobody spoke for a long time. Clary's hands held on to his face, forcing his eyes to hers. The dark tears in his eyes stunned her into silence. Her heart squeezed in pain. "Jace," she whispered – pleaded. "You did the right thing."

His face shifted in greater pain. It smoothed over his face like a permanent mask. "I didn't get there soon enough. I was mad I didn't get my father's damn approval. It was so petty of a reason to not be home, to not be there to watch him," he spat out the word like it was the most insulting thing to be said. "And my mom died for it."

Clary shook her head. Her problems forgotten, she felt new tears forming for him. "It took so much courage to fight back. He would have killed you, too."

Jace didn't answer for a long time. He tightened his grip on her hip. "He should have."

Clary didn't realize she believed the words until she spoke. "I need you here. I'm selfish, Jace. I need you here, alive."

Jace growled, "I'm a murderer. You need somebody good."

"You're good for me," she protested. Jace didn't say another word. He sighed and nodded, pulling her body closer to his, even though they were practically connected in all senses prior. "You won't leave me, will you?"

Jace closed his eyes. His lips seared her forehead, branded her almost. "I promise."

"I'm so t-terrified, Jace. Everyone I let in leaves me. You can't, okay? Because I can't keep you out much longer." She stopped fighting it. She let go of the blockade on her heart. She opened her soul to him. It wasn't out of loneliness, not anymore. If it had been out of loneliness, she would have been with Simon, or Isabelle, or any of her friends she got along with better. They always had good words and positive, 'uplifting' advice. Now, in this moment, it wasn't having a friend to comfort her. It was her heart pulling him in out of understanding and pain, their bond growing as strong as her bond with her brother had been in far less time. It had her shaking with fear.

"Then let me in."

And she did.

* * *

 **A/N: You guys are so fantastic! I am so sorry to do this to you, but it needs to be done. I am moving the regular updates back to five days. You're reading this so much faster than I thought. I can only write so fast!**

 **However, if we can get fifteen sweet reviews by noon tomorrow, I will make sure to have it updated within four days. Remember, tomorrow at noon!**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts. Some of you are guessing some very interesting things! Me gusta! Más, más, más! And do not worry! They will kiss…eventually. Also, how many of you would be against a descriptive not fully sex but almost scene? How many would want an all the way sex scene? Let me know. 15 by tomorrow please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Heat was a foreign concept to Clary. She was always cold. The fire had taken away all the heat in her life. Now she coasted by with leggings and hoodies. It sufficed. She didn't complain. There were times when she never had even that. Times when a foster parents would slap her, burning her cheek, but it burned cold. Times when the heat was shut off in a house, and she'd shiver through the night with her brother, holding out for sunlight that would offer livable, movable coldness.

When she woke up immersed in heat that morning, her mind immediately went to the night when there was nothing but heat. Her body had burned from the inside out. Fire swam into her eyes and never left. Since then, since that night, flames were all she saw. In her nightmares, when she closed her eyes, even when she was awake. It haunted her, watching her home burn, watching her parents burn. The red never left her eyes. Everything she saw, she saw with a tinge of red, a tinge of boiling guilt. That night she knew heat, and nothing could ever compare. It had numbed her senses of heat forever.

Fear captivated her tongue. She couldn't make a sound. She couldn't move. Her mind was back in that night, that night of red. But then she was shaking, being jolted from the memory. "Clary." That voice was familiar. Her body stopped fighting. "Clary, wake up." Gaining control again, she opened her eyes. Everything was quiet except the boy hovering behind her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and opened them again. "Are you okay?"

She jerked her head in a nod. Slowly, she maneuvered her body to turn and face him.

Jace. He brought a wave of calm over her. "I'm not used to sleeping with anyone." Jace raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Well, not actually sleeping, anyhow."

His hand and hers were wound together. "Neither am I."

Clary burst out into laughter. The idea of their conversation made her laugh. Jace smiled, too, a genuine smile. Even in the darkness of her room, Clary reveled in the smile. His eyes were still mystic, though if it was from sleep or his past she could not be sure. But that smile? It warmed soul, lighting it with the sunlight of the morning.

"How many girls have you been with?" Clary asked, wiggling her brows suggestively. "Ten? Twenty?"

Jace snorted. He propped himself up on one arm. Clary batted her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would," she agreed, smiling. "I myself have been with five."

Jace smirked deviously. "Five girls? Can I watch the next time?"

Clary giggled profusely, shoving his chest. "Dickhead." His leer made Clary want to both never look away and look anywhere but his flirty eyes.

"You lose count around the number fifteen." Jace shrugged. Clary's face must have been a sight to see. His hand rested on her shoulder. She didn't let him know how good that felt. "Are you jealous?"

Clary sneered, "Not at all. If it took you that long to perfect your game, I pity you." Jace chuckled. His hand lessened until it was just his fingers. They coasted down from her shoulder on the side of her body. When they reached her shorts, they stilled. He moved his hand to her milky white thighs, moving them up and down in an intoxicating rhythm.

"You couldn't keep up, baby, or I'd give you a taste," he whispered deliberately. Clary's eyes flickered shut. His hand clamped down on her thigh, high, almost reaching the bottom of her shorts. She gasped and arched her back, threating to rise up and pounce.

Clary's shuddering breath came out visibly. Jace snickered and pulled his hand away, slowly, still teasing. She fell back on the bed, more than a little breathless. Jace leaned above her, taking in the tiny girl sensing so much in one touch below him. Then, he walked out the door.

Clary let out a frustrated groan and threw her pillow at the door. He didn't come back.

. . .

"You're friends are so gorgeous!" Celine clapped with delight. Clary smiled weakly at her. Isabelle and Alec decided to come over to see Max. Simon had to practice with his band, but he had promised to come later despite repeatedly telling him that he wasn't needed. Before Clary could escape back into the sanity of her friends, Celine tugged on her shirtsleeve like a child. "Can I ask you something, Clary?"

"Yes."

"Does Jace hate me?" she wrung her hands squeamishly. Her eyes darted to the kids playing in the living room and back. "It's just…he's so quiet near me."

Clary shrugged. "He's very tired. Max keeps him up a lot."

Celine's eyes grew wide. "Oh no!" she worried. "Poor Jace. I want him – I want both of you to feel like this is your home. It is your home. Any time. No matter what. What…what can I do?"

Clary grabbed an apple out of the fridge. As she chewed, she thought on her words. Celine was so kind-hearted. If only Stephen had a little of her softness and her a little of his hardness, they'd be wonderful, tolerable people. As much as her words tempted Clary, she knew they would never be true. They were their foster kids, not adopted kids. This would never be her home. But she could pretend, like always, to make Celine happy.

Then an idea popped into her head. She smiled and pointed with her apple at Celine, casually. "There's plenty of space in my room. And an extra bed. I know it's 'against the rules,' but come on. Jace only talks to me to tease me about my red hair. I could never even think – ew," she lied fluently. She _definitely_ could and did think about Jace that way.

Celine's face shifted from distraught to excited. She jumped and clapped her hands. "Oh, Clary, that's perfect!" Celine squealed.

Clary smiled softly. "Tell Stephen it was your idea."

Isabelle had Max beside her, but he focus was on her phone. "Hey, foster people, why does everyone complain about social workers? And why do they give them shitty nicknames?"

Clary snorted. She remembered the last time she saw her own social worker. Big Bev was a name of permanent memory. Her lack of personality created one of its own. Clary would never admit this out loud, but when she turned eighteen in two years, it'd be a pleasantly sad goodbye to that lady. She really did do her best. But that wasn't her first social worker. Her first one got put in jail for, you guessed it, hiding abuse due to bribes.

"They're uneducated lazy asses who don't give a shit how their assigned child is actually doing so long as they are alive," Jace kicked his legs up on the table. Alec was on Max's other side, and Jace was in the chair. It left Clary no room to sit. He glanced at her and silently patted his lap. Clary flipped him off.

"Only the shitty ones are," Clary said. "My social worker now is great _and_ has a degree. She hardly says anything, but she always listened. I gave her a nickname only out of respect. Why do you ask?"

Isabelle glanced up. She put her phone away. "My boyfriend keeps complaining about his social worker. I don't get it. Max's social worker is awesome."

Alec rolled his eyes. "She only likes him because he's handsome." Max snickered and poked Isabelle in the side. It wasn't his smartest move, but she jabbed him back light enough to not leave a bruise.

"He was handsome, sure, but I don't like my men nice and clean like him. Am I right, Clary?" Isabelle wiggled her eyebrows. Jace leaned forward in his seat. Clary stumbled back a step, blushing. His eyes started a fire in her stomach. His mind was reaching out to her with a handful of suggestively dirty comments.

"You're a damn slutty lunatic, Iz," she sneered. The doorbell rang behind her, and it made Clary jump. She turned around, thankful for the opportunity to slip away without having to face Jace. She could already feel his hot gaze on her body, ideas flying through his mind. Simon was at the door, brushing down his hair nervously. She opened it and gave him a hug. "I'm glad you came. No Maia or Jordan?"

Jordan was in their band, apparently. He didn't seem too enthusiastic about it. When Jace and she had been locked in a closet together, the rest of them continued on with their party for a few hours. Clary had fallen asleep, but she assumed they eventually let them out, surprised not to have found them naked. Clary had a theory that Simon put enough alcohol in Jordan's system that when he played a demo, it sounded somewhat audible, and Jordan agreed and never backed out.

"Nope. Maia wanted a new video game, so she picked up an extra shift. Jordan went to pick her up or some lovey dove shit like that," Simon snorted. "Why are they so over the top?"

Clary shrugged. She never minded much, especially compared to what she had witnessed in that bedroom shared with both of them, though it was technically only shared with Maia. "Because now they can be. Why not?" It was inspiring that they had made it through the system, alive and whole. Well, more or less. Nobody knew how messed up Maia and Jordan both were in the head more than Clary. They had some weird fantasies and some fucked up late night thoughts.

Simon grumbled, "My food can think of a few reasons why." Clary and Simon sat below the couch while Max fell between them. He rattled on and on about his newest comic book. Clary assumed nobody spoke geek to him on a regular basis. Simon was the king at it, clearly. She did fine herself, but Simon genuinely enjoyed this conversation compared to some.

Clary thought they were having a good time. Even Jace hadn't retreated back out the window to wherever Wayland Land was yet. Isabelle was telling stories of times she'd been drunk and made out with random strangers. Clary was quite interested. Alec looked disgusted, as did Jace. Then, Stephen came home.

"What the hell is this?" He trudged through he door with his mighty briefcase. A firm scowl was on his face, like he'd just walked through pouring rain. "Celine!"

Celine came running from the kitchen where she was doing dishes. "Honey?"

He pointed into the living room. "Why are Clary's friends here? They should be doing homework."

Celine wrung her hands again. Her wide eyes jerked between the living room and Stephen's icy gaze. "Their homework is done, Stephen. I have dinner ready for you."

He grumbled something under his breath, setting his coat and briefcase down. "You three can leave. Clary, a word."

Isabelle's glare was hard to miss. She hugged Max, and then Clary. "I'm so sorry."

Alec hugged Max. Simon was already out the door at this point, scared for his life. Clary's eyes connected with Jace's. She mouthed the words "Save me!" He laughed and reclined on the chair. Max waved and sat back on the couch, reading his comic book. With a sigh, Clary prepared herself for a speech that shouldn't have been.

Stephen was devouring a sandwich. He watched Clary as he ate, forcing her to stand there the entire time. Her patience didn't wane, like he wanted it to. Instead, she picked at her nails. After he downed a soda, he stood. "Clary. This is not a party house. Think about poor Celine. She has to clean this house all by herself. Not only do you not help her like you should, but you add more people and waste to the mess."

Clary clenched her fists. "She said it was fine."

"I did, Stephen, really," Celine piped from behind him. He grumbled a silencing word.

"Get it under control, Clarissa. My house, my rules." Stephen hissed. He rubbed at his chin and glanced in the living room. "It's my understanding that Jace hasn't been getting enough sleep. If it were my way, I'd have you switch with Jace and give him some peace and quiet. However, Celine feels Max should have room to 'grow.' Youll switch Max then. No questions."

Clary nodded. She didn't mind that last part aside from the fact that she never got to use her bathtub. Eh, Max would love the bubble baths. She doubted Celine would miss the chance to give him one every night.

She clamped a hand on Max's shoulder. "Hey, Maxxie, will you be upset if I steal your bed?" She asked, bending down to his level. Jace didn't say anything, just waited patiently to hear her out. Max frowned. He crossed his hands over his chest.

"Why?"

"There's a big bathtub in my room. I thought you might like it." Clary said. She glanced at Jace, who was frowning. "What do you say?"

Max took a step back. He looked between Clary and Jace. There was a glint in his eyes that Clary recognized as intelligence. Simon always had it. Nothing was going past this kid. "Do you have a crush on Jace?" he whispered, but by the chuckles echoing from above her, she knew Jace heard it. Clary scowled.

"No, but I would love to crush Jace," she said. "There's bubbles…"

He gasped, "Deal!" Neither of them had much, and soon clothes and shoes were being thrown across the hall. Clary picked them up and calmly helped Max grab his bag, which still lied unpacked.

"Do Stephen and Celine know about this?" Jace asked, leaning against the door, watching the chaos that was an eight-year-old boy. Clary paused, bent over picking up her mismatched shoes. She smiled.

"They've ordered it."

. . .

Celine, Stephen, and Max went to sleep, as usual, on time. It was always ten for Stephen and Celine. It was supposed to be nine for Max, but Clary had no doubt that he was awake. She almost felt bad for him. Who would he speak to now?

"He's all alone," Clary sighed.

"He's got his books. Trust me, that kid could entertain himself with a string," Jace said. Clary had trouble believing him. In the end, though, she couldn't have done anything. Stephen was the one who did this. Clary fell back on her new bed, eyes closing softly. It was just as cold as the other. "Are you tired?" Jace stood before her in sweats and a form fitting black shirt. Clary's eyes moved up and down his body as she sat up, shaking her head. A small grin slipped onto her lips. Jace smirked, clearly knowing what his outfit did. The effects were obvious. "Let me show you something."

He grabbed her hand. Clary debated only for a second. She swung her legs over the bed. Jace paused at her bare body. "This will be the first and last time I say this, but you may want to put some more clothes on, Red."

The words rolled off his tongue with a fight. Blushing, Clary pulled on sweat pants and changed into the hoodie he'd let her borrow. It was a good idea to simply deem it as her own. There were no intentions in her red head to give it back. Jace stood by the window, watching her move with amusement. She smiled nervously when she pulled the hoodie down. "Where are we going?"

No words were exchanged. He motioned a finger to follow him, and Clary made sure she did. Opening the window, his lithe frame hopped on to the fire escape with ease. Clary did as well, less gracefully, but she didn't even need his offered hand. They climbed up the creaking stairs until her stomach felt uneasy. In truth, the building was only six stories. They went to the top, all the way to the roof. Jace flung his body over the edge and stood like he'd been born with those natural talents. He bent over the side and pulled Clary up, knowing just how tedious her upper body strength was.

Jumping to her feet, Clary began to thank him, but her words escaped her lips once she saw what was before her. Twinkling lights and lanterns were spread among the edges of the roof, illuminating the large patch of ground, or rooftop. The stairs to the inside of the building opened up in a little roof-covered hut. There was enough room for a couch to rest underneath the porch-type of ceiling as well. In front of the couch was a lone guitar. The wood was dark with red lettering creating a word in cursive.

"Took a little time, but I think it's a bit better than the room we share," Jace shrugged. He walked casually to the couch and hopped on it. Clary stumbled a few steps forward. It was only then she noticed the blankets and pillows resting in front of the couch, staring directly up towards the sky. Again, her breath caught. "This is just for tonight."

She couldn't speak, suddenly. All her thoughts and motions circulated Jace and this heaven above all heavens located only three floors above her supposed 'home.' Immediately upon seeing this, she knew nothing could be closer to home than this scene on the rooftop.

"Wh-what's tonight?" Clary stuttered, uneasy being this tongue-tied. It wasn't often this happened.

"Tonight's the night I thank you for saving me from sleep deprivation," Jace slowly pushed to his feet. He walked in front of Clary, eyes leveling, steadying hers. The gold burned bright tonight, brighter than she'd ever seen them shine before. It made no sense, either. They were nearing black as his pupils grew. The golden gaze focused on her face, on her hair, on her lips. She could feel where they put their attention on. That area would burst alight with energy seconds later. "And, tonight's the night I do this."

He didn't say another word. Clary opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then she saw it, the look in his eyes, the one she'd been seeing since they met. She never knew if it had simply been her mind creating something she craved – something she needed. Now she was certain it was real.

His lips were softer than his calloused fingers, which gripped her face in the lightest way they could manage. The roughness of his hands made everything so much more palpable, though. She fell into his caress in the same way her lips fell into his.

He increased the pace, and Clary opened her lips to his. Things exploded. It shifted, and the only thing she could sense was Jace. Her mind wrapped around his, and all restraints were lost.

His tongue slid against her, and she reciprocated. There was a fire igniting between them, between their mouths. Her desires raced ahead of her, and she jumped into his arms. Jace caught the girl swiftly. His hands roamed from her thighs to her ass.

It just reminded Clary of how absolutely cold it was up there in the freezing winter months. "Jace, the blankets," she whispered against his mouth. Though he didn't move immediately, he understood. Their lips broke apart, but their eyes never did. The gold was burning as bright as the sun he so much resembled. As she slid off him, Jace's hands trailed over her sides up to her face. Clary shivered and closed her eyes softly. His hands wound in hers.

"Do you trust me?" Jace asked. Clary had so much hesitation in answering. When was the last time she could say she trusted somebody on the top if a six story building? What happened to that person? Clary knew the answers like a fish in a net knew it'd never get out alive. She didn't care anymore. If she took her last breath, she died trying to live. In this moment, she wanted to _live_ with Jace.

She gave him a steady nod.

Jace moved her from behind, letting her feet hit the ground before them first. Every step, her breath grew shallower. "Step up." Slowly, she raised one foot, then the other. Somehow, she could feel a difference. The air was colder, alerting her to her surrounding. Jace's hands moved to her waist. "Open your eyes."

Clary did. She sucked in a gust of air. Below her was the city, smaller than she'd thought. Cars zoomed by. The streets were small little lines with only two or three people milling about. Taller, grander buildings blocked her view of Manhattan, but this was just as thrilling as she'd imagine being on top of the empire state building would have been. Clary swayed, and Jace's hands steadied her. "Wow," she breathed. Blood pumped through her veins. She was feeling something. She was finally feeling something

Up there, the world was hers. It felt like all her problems and fears flew away with the wind. She could start over, if only she remembered this feeling, right here. With a grin as big as her lips could manage, she grabbed Jace's hands. "My turn," she said and pulled him up to the ledge with her. Jace watched Clary impishly, like one might watch a child taste real food for the first time. Boldly, she took a step into his body. Her fist found his shirt and pulled him down on her.

They kissed hard, fast. It was ravenous. Their energy equaled their adrenaline, and it was pumping right now. Her hands ran down past his defined jaw-line to his chest. He was pure muscle, and his tee wasn't hiding that fact at all. His tongue entered her mouth, and she happily did the same. They fought for dominance. Nobody truly won. Jace's hands were all over her skin, leaving trails of fire that sizzled in the freezing winter air.

His hand lifted her shirt up, just barely, but his fingers grazed her skin. Hot energy coursed through her body, causing her to shiver. Just like that, her foot slipped off the edge. She shrieked and clung to Jace as she began to fall. In seconds, he pulled her back to him and they both fell to the roof.

Nobody said anything. Honking and howling of the wind and cars filled the air with unsure energy. Clary watched Jace as he inspected his arms. When a grin appeared on his lips, she smiled, too. "You're crazy, Fray," Jace cackled. She beamed cheekily at him.

"That was the best moment of my life," she closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath of air, and let it out with a loud moan. Jace moved in front of her, but her eyes remained shut. He grabbed her hands and yanked Clary to her feet. This time, he moved her to the blankets. She giggled. "I never doubted you for a second, Wayland."

He smirked. "Why would you?" She opened her eyes as he pulled her down to the blankets. She eyed them suspiciously.

"I don't know," she shrugged. He pulled a large quilt over top of her and settled in beside her, back pressed against the couch. The ground was cold beneath her still, as was the couch. But heat rolled off Jace's body. She scooted next to him, and when that wasn't good enough, she crawled on top of his lap. "Some would say you intended this for sex."

Jace's eyes crinkled with his true smile. "I absolutely intend to have sex here. With you. But not tonight. Tonight, I want to let you make me feel good, even if it's a lie," he leaned forward and surprised her with a kiss, chaste and sure. Clary blinked back, trying to fight off the daze his kisses left her in.

Winding her fingers into his hair, she smiled warmly, something she knew she never did. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt reason to truthfully smile. When she was with Jonathan, she'd felt safe, but never excited or happy. Jonathan was a reminder of her parents, of how they died, of how he'd comforted her. Jace was nothing of the sorts.

He was her new fire. "Then hold me close," she whispered, and Jace's hands grabbed her hips and connected her body to his. Somehow, he managed to stand up with her legs hooked around his torso. He fell back on the couch, and Clary scooted down to rest her head on his shoulder. The blanket trapped their body heat in, and Clary wished it didn't have an escape.

His heart pounded against her ear. It was a steady, firm rhythm, so sure and strong. One hand rubbed her back underneath her sweatshirt, and the other hand kept a firm grip on her bottom.

Jace wanted her. He wanted to show her a new way of life, a new way of finding joy. He wanted to make her soar. Clary wanted that, too. She wanted to forget the past. She may have been lonely, but she was no longer alone. Jace would be there for her in all the right ways…even if they were legally all the wrong ones.

* * *

 **A/N: Finally! They kiss! They kiss! Was it what you expected? Less? Dime! Tell me! Tell me your thoughts and squeals and anything!**

 **I love you guys so much. Your reviews make my day shine brighter. Seriously. Okay, I need more time to write though, ugh! Can we reach twenty reviews by tomorrow night? If we reach twenty reviews by tomorrow, I'll update in four days again. You're killing me, but I'll do it!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Clary always pointed out that in New York, you were never alone. Even when you weren't with anyone, there were security cameras and televisions around. Even in the woods of central park, there were sounds. Sometimes it was of honking cars. Other times it was of the birds and leaves.

Most of the time, it helped her cope. When she sat atop of the building, there was plenty of noise. She wished she had a way to draw out all of the noises. She did her best. The crowds of people, mouths open in protest, waving grotesque hand gestures, and so many other things help describe communication. Still, nothing quite described the _sound_ of the city in the background. Immediately around her, things were quiet, but there was always the cars and city folk in the near distance.

"Coffee or hot chocolate?" Clary jumped at the sound of his voice. She spun around carefully. Her legs were barely dangling off the side of the building. Jace had two cups of hot material in hand.

"Coffee," they said in unison. Clary broke into a smile. Snowflakes were circulating around them. He sat beside her, all of his legs falling off the edge. Clary scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He handed her a cup and took a sip out of his own.

"Thank you."

"No problem, Red," he said. Clary set her sketch down to drink her coffee. Jace snatched the book from her.

"Hey!"

"I brought you coffee. Hush!" Jace batted her hands away. He flipped through the pages, letting no clues of his emotions slip onto his face. Clary sipped her coffee slowly, nervously awaiting his feedback. He took so long. Clary groaned and bumped his shoulder. Jace ignored her. He stopped on the picture she'd drawn the day they'd went to the track. "You've got the tattoos wrong."

She blushed and looked down at the busy streets below. "You haven't exactly modeled for me, Jace."

He shrugged. "If that's an invitation to undress, we'll have to move this party inside, little girl," Jace teased slyly. Clary snorted and bumped his shoulder, a smile gracing her lips again. Jace continued staring at the picture. "These are all so good. Is this what you want to do?"

Clary frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What do you want to do after high school?"

She hadn't thought about that subject. Clary no longer had the money for college. Her parent's trust fund didn't have as much as it should have. She didn't have a problem saving up money, but would she want to spend that on college?

"My mom was an artist. I'm not nearly as good as she, but…" Clary looked at him. His eyes were curious, honest. "I don't know. What about you?"

Jace grinned. "You have true skills. It helps that you had such a handsome model, but still, you'll do wonderfully." Clary burst into laughter. "There's this boxing gym I went to when I was young. It ran out of business a long time ago, and I plan on reopening it."

Clary didn't expect on hearing such a sure plan. "How?"

"My family has a manor in the south. It's in my name, but I can't touch it until I turn eighteen. Last year, it got its value back when it withstood a hurricane. Hardly any houses around it still stand. When I sell it in a few months, I'll have plenty of money to buy and restore the center." Jace breathed out impartially. Clary smiled, her nose growing redder and redder as the wind blew across her face. She had no idea how much of a forward thinker he was.

"Why aren't you in a fancy boarding school if your family has money?" Clary asked, setting her cup aside. Jace did the same. He grabbed her hand. Even if they both had gloves on, she appreciated the gesture.

"When I was tried for murder, it was deemed in self-defense. But they took his life insurance away from me anyways, and the trust fund in his name." Jace blew out a bitter breath of air. Clary scooted closer, clutching their intertwined hands in her lap. "I don't give a shit. I never wanted his dirty money anyways." The true rage in his words made Clary's heart sink. No boy should feel that way about his father.

Clary stayed silent for a long time. She stared at her feet as they bounced up and down in the breeze. Jace checked his watch and groaned. "Time to go." She pouted, but he pulled her to her feet anyways. Together, they met Max in the kitchen. He was shoveling eggs into his mouth like crazy.

"These are so good!" he said with glee. Celine smiled warmly at him as she turned off the stove, a phone pressed against her ear. A warm twinkle appeared in her eyes. She looked at the two teenagers.

"Clary, Simon's on the line. He wants to know if he can walk you to school," she said. Clary glanced at Jace. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Then, he made a kissing gesture. She groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Um, tell him I'm running late," she lied. Celine faltered because they were actually quite early. Clary sent her a look and she nodded. "Simon? Hi, Clary is actually running late. She'll meet you there…okay, I'll tell her."

She hung up the phone and looked impishly at Clary. It reminded her of the schoolgirl gaze that all the middle school girls shared with each other when a boy waved to them in the hall. Clary stepped back from the creepy smile, bumping into Jace in the process. He stood firm, not welcoming her touch or denying it. "I think someone has a secret admirer."

Jace sneered, "It's never been a secret from him."

Clary rolled her eyes. "What did he say to tell me?"

Celine giggled. "That he was eager to see you."

Jace snorted loudly again, not hiding his scorn at all. "How romantic, right Clary?"

"Yes, very," Clary muttered in dismay. They were both making something out to be more than it was. That was just Simon. He was a nice boy, unlike Jace's asshole cover. It was a little unnerving that Jace was actually jealous of Simon. The charm Jace had over Clary was nearly palpable, especially between the two of them. His jealousy was so uncalled for. Simon was her annoying little brother that she loved most of the time. Jace was something else entirely. "Max, are you ready?"

With milk dripping down his chin, he nodded eagerly. "Yes!"

Celine handed the boy a lunch. She had tried to convince Clary and Jace to take a lunch. They both refused. Celine always did that. She tried to push things on them, things a mother would do. Though it was endearing, Clary could never look at Celine like a mother. She was too ditsy. Sometimes, it felt like Clary had to comfort her instead of the other way around.

At school, Jace and Clary arrived half an hour early. Few people were in the halls. Clary looked at Jace. "Why did we come this early, Jace?"

A breath-taking grin split across his face. Clary stepped closer to him instinctively. "So we can finally get some alone time out of the cold," he took her hand. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies. Jace pulled the two of them upstairs, stopping by the familiar storage closet. Clary smiled ruefully.

"You planned this," she gasped.

Jace smirked. "Yes, sweetheart, I sure did." He shoved against her and they fell into the closet together. Clary squeaked in surprise. His hands were on her shoulders now, pinning her against the wall. Clary looked at him, studying his next move by his eyes. Jace did the same, contemplating what to do next.

Clary couldn't take it much longer. She shed off her coat and gloves, doing the same with his. Then, she wound her hands into his hair and moved her face directly in front of his. Jace's eyes searched hers, and she finally brushed her lips to his, breathing coming out with shaking relief. He kissed her slowly, passionately. Slow, smooth energy flowed into her, building and building right before her eyes. His lips were soft, but his tongue was softer. His mouth tasted fresh with the hint of husky Jace behind it. Clary wanted more.

His hands ran down the sides of her body. She shivered into his touch, and he stepped closer. Clary moved her hands to his shirt, lifting it from his body. She pulled away, staring at his beautiful form. He had a body of a twenty-year-old. Everything was taught and fit. His abs were chiseled, tempting. A line of dark-blonde hair led down into his pants.

Clary looked at Jace. He was watching her with adoration. Her lips twitched upward and her eyes turned dark with want, with need. She pushed him hard into the far back wall, throwing kisses down his neck, down his chest. And finally all over his abs.

Clary ran her tongue down them, hands gripping his sides. She closed her eyes and smiled as she kissed over every muscle she could find. Then, she rose, grinning. Jace chuckled as he pulled her against him. He slid to the floor and brought Clary to straddle his lap. This kiss was more desperate, more hungry than before. He offered no room for debate.

When she broke away, Jace started kissing down her neck. When he breathed out over a sensitive spot, Clary squirmed and gasped loudly, throwing her head back. Jace intercepted her pleasure and stopped there. He started kissing her neck, sucking and pulling over that particular spot. Clary's fingers dug into his arms as her body felt waves upon waves of alarming pleasure.

"Jace," Clary whimpered. It was a painful pleasure. His hands gripped her ass and scooted her closer. Clary could feel his boner against her butt, feel how ready he was for her. She wanted him badly, desperately.

Just as she was about to take off her shirt, the door swung open. The one and only Isabelle stood before them. Clary craned her neck to see, and Jace looked up, cursing when the light blinded the two in the dark. "Holy fuck," she said.

"Isabelle, what the hell are you doing here?" Jace growled, his voice sending vibrations into Clary's neck. She turned around so her back was to Jace's chest.

"Me? What about you two _siblings_? Hmm?" Isabelle cursed and shut the door, turning on a light switch from above. The bulb cast a yellow glow on everything, but Isabelle looked scary as hell in either light.

Clary groaned. Jace's hands were gripping her thighs tight enough to bruise them, but she couldn't blame him. "We're foster siblings, Izzy. It's not like we're actually related," Clary begged. The utter disgust on Isabelle's face was horrifying. "You didn't have a problem with us together at the party!"

"I was drunk!" Isabelle hissed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Clary begged, "Please, Iz, you can't tell anyone. Please."

"Why the hell not? What you're doing is wrong!" Iz glared. "Why can't you two just keep your hands to yourself? It's not that fucking hard, especially when he's an ass, Clary."

"I'd rather be an ass than a bitch," Jace muttered. Clary elbowed him. She pursed her lips.

"He's all I have," Clary whispered. She rested a hand on top of his, and Jace rested his lips against her cheek reassuringly. "Don't take him away from me."

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest, but Clary could see the betrayal in her eyes. "I suppose I'm nothing to you then?"

Clary didn't know what to say. Her mouth fell open, but no words came out. She didn't mean it like that. But then again, she did. Isabelle was a great friend, but she couldn't handle Clary's meltdowns. Not like Jace could. Jace was always there for her. Isabelle had her own friends and boyfriend. She had her own life. Jace and Clary lived so close together they practically shared a life.

"Of course not!" Clary sputtered, but Isabelle had already yanked open the door. "Iz!"

"I'll keep your damn secret. Don't worry," she hissed, shaking her head as she left. The door shut, leaving them alone again. Clary couldn't speak. Her hands were shaking as she leaned back into Jace.

"Fuck." She whispered. Jace's arms pulled her head back into him.

"She'll come around." He assured her. Clary knew he was right, but she'd never forget the hurt in her eyes. It was like Clary had just killed her best friend. But she couldn't help it. Isabelle was different than Jace. She needed Jace to cope. Isabelle was a good distraction. The shopping, the alcohol, the flirting. It was all fun, but it was only temporary. Jace was long term.

Clary flipped around, leaning her head into his chest. Jace's hands rubbed her back, and he kissed her head. She couldn't help but feel like the worst friend ever, and Clary had met some shitty friends before.

"Do you want to skip? We could go to the park or sneak on the roof." Jace suggested even though they'd freeze their asses off at either of those places. Clary shook her head. "Do you want to go to class?" She sighed and nodded. She needed to make things right with Isabelle. "Okay. Let's go, Red. No more moping." Clary scowled at him. He shoved her to her feet, slapping her ass when she was still moping. Clary kicked him lightly, and he chuckled. Jace pulled on his shirt as Clary watched. "Next time the roles better be reversed. I've held out far too long."

Clary smiled sadly. His dick-like ways could bring her out of any mood. "You're an ass."

Jace sent her a crooked smile. "And you have a sweet ass, babe, so it works out fine." Clary laughed, and Jace pecked her lips. "Class." He handed Clary her bag, and they snuck off to the crowded hallways unnoticed.

. . .

Simon sat listening to Clary and Isabelle fight. He didn't know what it was about, but he knew it was serious. Clary did her best to avoid revealing her secret. "It's just different, Iz. If you would actually have a relationship, maybe you'd understand."

That only fueled her fire. "I never expected you of all fucking people to slut shame me!"

"I'm not! I'm just saying if you had true feelings for your boyfriend, you'd understand."

"That's fucking cold, Clary," Isabelle stood from the table. Jace was directly behind her. "Oh, goody. Now you won't be lonely."

"Iz!"

Jace sat down in Isabelle's seat between Clary and Simon. "I see she's still in a pissy mood." Clary nodded glumly. "Nerd boy."

"Narcissist," Simon grumbled in greeting. Clary could tell he was slightly upset that Jace knew more about the situation than he did, but there was no way she could tell him. If Jace was right, which she grew worried he was, then Simon would be crushed. Clary didn't know why he liked her. They hung out a lot during first period and lunch, and he'd sometimes join Isabelle and Clary in the evenings, but Clary and him never really connected. Clary would have tried opening up to him, but she knew he'd never get it. It was hard for people like him to understand what she went through, what she's still going through.

The conversation never started up. Simon waited five minutes before telling Clary he had to study for a test. Clary waved goodbye half-heartedly. She didn't have the energy to be nice today, or any day, truly. "What are we doing, Jace?"

Jace sat up straight. " _I_ am eating this mundane meal that appears to be a mix between garbage and a horse. You on the other hand seem to be skipping this fine food."

Clary huffed and propped her head on her hand, staring glumly at Jace. He shoved the tray of slop away and spun around so that he was directly facing her. When she tried to grab her hand, he yanked it away. "This is what I mean." Clary grumbled.

Jace frowned. "If you're here for just my body, Clarissa, I'll have you know I have more self-respect than that."

Clary groaned, her face tingeing red. She stomped on his foot. "Can't you take this seriously?"

Jace leaned forward with a small puff of air. He brushed strands of red that had fallen from her messy bun away from her sparkling green eyes. "We can't risk anyone seeing us. You know that."

Clary's sad eyes didn't disappear. She wished he'd had some words of wisdom that would make her feel better, have hope. But with foster siblings, there was no hope. There was only the sinking feeling that things would go badly for them.

. . .

Clary and Isabelle walked to last period together. Isabelle said, "Listen, I still think this is very dangerous for you both, but if he makes you happy…" She shrugged. Clary smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Appeasing Isabelle was nice, but she was only one person. Clary knew that everyone else wouldn't see it the same way. Isabelle looped her arm in hers and looked at Clary from the corner of her eye. "Is he a good kisser?"

"Isabelle!" Clary laughed.

"What? It's an honest question…" Isabelle trailed off, her gaze locking on two people standing before the gym. Clary looked up as well. A pretty, tall blonde had her dainty little hands running down Jace's arm. He kept shoving her off, and she kept coming back.

"Is this real leather?" she asked, picking at his jacket. Jace looked up with annoyance. His eyes met Clary. She was standing still, hands clenched at her sides. The girl's hands were all over his body, playing with the zipper, inching toward his hair. Clary was seeing red. And she couldn't do anything.

Jace pleaded with his eyes for understanding. He shoved her off again, and she came right back, so he finally snapped. "Get your hands off me." Jace brushed off his jacket. The look he sent the girl must have scared her. Her mouth dropped open, and she stumbled back. "I'm not interested."

"O-okay…" she muttered. Jace pushed past her to Isabelle and Clary. Clary had so much she wanted to do. She wanted to hit that girl. She wanted to tell her, and all the girls in the school, that he was taken. She wanted to be mad at Jace even though she knew she couldn't be. She wanted to…do what Isabelle did. The moment he opened his mouth, Iz slapped him across the cheek.

"Asshole," Iz yanked Clary's arm, pulling her along to the bathroom to change.

"Clary," Jace jogged after them. She didn't look back. "Fuck." They closed the door to the bathroom.

"How can you like him after that, Clary? He's such a dick." Isabelle paced back in forth in front of Clary.

"We can't let anyone know." Clary muttered, pulling off her shirt and pants.

"He should have told her off long before you came around," Isabelle hissed. She eyed Clary. "How can you not be pissed?"

Clary sighed. "I just…I want to forget it," she confessed. In reality, she was mad with herself. She was mad at their situation. Any other time, she would have walked up and kissed him right in that girl's face, but she couldn't. She was crushed and tired of how this played out.

"Fine. But you're going to show him just how much he'd be missing if he cheated." Isabelle said, pulling out Clary's clothes. She eyed the sports bra before tightening the straps. "Put it on and pull your boobs up." She took Clary shirt and threw it in the trash.

"Izzy," Clary groaned. "There are other people out there."

She nodded. "And he can see how it feels to have others fawning over you." Clary reluctantly changed. Isabelle rolled her shorts up until she definitely had a camel toe. "The only person who is going to see this as bad is Alec. But that's because-,"

"Because he's gay," Clary finished for her. "I know." Her eyes went wide.

"Don't tell anyone," Iz hissed.

Clary shrugged. "It's kind of obvious. The way he looks at Jace…"

Isabelle bit her lip. "I know." She shrugged. "He knows he's not…you know." Clary smiled.

"I don't blame him. I'd still look, too," she winked. Isabelle pretended to puke and shoved Clary towards the door.

Jace and Alec were sparring on the mat when Isabelle and Clary walked out. Jace saw her and straightened, totally forgetting about the match. Alec socked him in the jaw and landed a kick to his chest, sending the boy on his back before he could blink. Isabelle called Alec to her, and Clary bent over Jace's groaning form. She was very aware of the majority of her boobs hanging out of her bra, directly in his eyesight.

"That looked like it hurt," she noted. Jace's eyes had trouble straying from her chest. In the end, he didn't look away for more than a few seconds. He made a childlike sound to confirm her comment. Clary straightened and offered him a hand. "Let's go. I want to workout today."

He didn't argue with her. She led them to a treadmill. Despite there being plenty of open treadmills beside her, Jace stood at the head of hers. She chose a high speed and began. Jace leaned against the plastic lazily, not even bothering with conversation. As the speed picked up, her chest began to bounce with every step.

"Isabelle and I made up," she said.

Jace finally realized she was talking to him. He forced his gaze up, clearing his throat. "Was the outfit her idea too?"

Clary beamed proudly. "Yes. Like it?" Jace's hands reached out. He fooled with a strap of her sports bra, untwisting it.

"Very much."

"Wayland, you're not here to flirt," Valentine yelled, storming towards them. Clary hid her laughter with 'coughs.' Jace stood to attention. He looked between the two. "I see Isabelle's had her influence on you."

Clary rolled her eyes. Valentine focused on Jace. "I was just told that Alec beat you."

Jace frowned. "Unfairly. I got distracted."

Valentine sneered, "That's a disgrace, Wayland. Distracted or not, you've got to keep up your game. From now on, you'll workout with Clarissa." He looked at her. "And run on your own time. We need muscles, not bones."

Clary didn't mind that. She really wasn't one to run. She was on, however, to make Jace squirm under her shaking boobs. She walked to the bench press. "Let me work you out for today," she smirked.

Jace grinned. "That could mean so many things, Red."

She rolled her eyes and shoved him down on the seat. "Get your mind out of the gutter and start lifting."

Jace did as told. It was her turn to marvel at him as he went. She put a lot of weight on it, even for him. His muscles contracted and relaxed fluently. They had such definition. She wished he'd take off that damn shirt. After he did enough of that, Clary got an idea. She smiled kindly at him, but he saw right through the tenderness. Clary didn't have tenderness in her.

"Push ups," she said, standing. Jace frowned, like he was expecting some torturous device. When he got on the ground, however, Clary sat promptly on his back. He grunted. "Your ass really must be bigger than it looks," he hissed. Clary wacked him upside the head and he laughed. To her surprise, he managed to get ten in. When Valentine looked at them, there was major confusion in his eyes. Clary simply waved and smiled cheekily. She looked away and got off. "Now squats."

Jace crossed his arms over his chest. The adrenaline pumping through his body made his muscles look even bigger. Clary gulped. "I'm not doing a hundred squats."

"Why not? You make me do that," Clary said defiantly. Jace smirked.

"That's so I can look at your ass, sweetheart." Jace said. "Why are you even doing this? You're just throwing random ones out. If guys do squats, we do weighted squats. I'd make you, but I think you'd drop and never get up."

Clary flared her nose. "If bet you can't squat me twenty times."

Jace grinned a devious grin that made her immediately regret her words. "And if I can?"

Clary didn't back out now. She clenched her fists. "Then," she stepped into his personal space, "you kiss _wherever_ you want tonight."

His eyes turned from gold to black in an instant. Within seconds, Clary was placed on his shoulders. Her head nearly reached the ceiling. Jace had his hands clamped on her thighs higher than she would think was needed. She counted out loud as he moved up and down. Around ten, Clary began to doubt herself. Around fifteen, he was really breathing hard, but around eighteen, Clary knew she was in for trouble. So when he went down for nineteen, she leaned forward and swung out of his grasp. She held tightly to his torso, and she stopped sliding right when her face lined up directly with his crotch.

"You cheated," Jace groaned, his hands holding tightly to her waist. She giggled and slid all the way out of his reach. "I still won and you know it."

Clary smirked. "You're a little desperate, don't you think?"

Jace crossed his arms over his chest again, looking at Clary with respect, of all surprising traits. "You're all I've thought about since we met. After today, you've really pushed my restraint. I'm desperate and I'm proud."

Clary's smile faded as she remembered earlier. "You want me more than that blonde?"

Jace grew puzzled for a second. He glanced over her shoulder. Valentine was instructing the boy Clary had beaten every time they sparred together how to 'punch like a warrior.' Two strong hands dug into her shoulder, and Clary was whisked away. They ended up in the storage closet with extra outfits, which was different from their make-out closet.

Jace's fingers were starting to hurt her. He noticed her discomfort and moved them down, steadying her frame as he bent to her eyelevel. Clary stared impudently into his golden orbs. They were shining brighter than normal, but that could have been the adrenaline pumping through his body. His eyes looked very concerned.

"Are you seriously jealous of _her_?" Jace asked. Clary didn't confirm or negate his assumption. Her eyes wondered to the right of his, just a bit.

"She was very pretty and very touchy."

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't do this, Clary. Ever. Relationships aren't my thing. I don't know what the hell you want me to say here to convince you I'm here for you. Just you. Not your sexy little body. Not your ability to flirt – which is a hell of a lot better than you think. I'm here for _you_. I want you."

Clary moved her eyes back to his. Hers grew glossier by the second, but she refused to let him know that. Still, her voice clogged and she had to whisper to get the words out. "I don't do this either, Jace. I don't get…jealous, ever." She paused, trying her best to describe what she felt. When she did, she grew sick. "It just…looks so easy for you to find somebody else and leave me-," She couldn't finish. The mere idea of saying that word again scared her. Jace's eyes softened, lost their scared alertness. "It's not her. She sounded dumb. But it's the girl after her that worries me. Or the next. One of them is going to be better than me. And they won't know to stay away from you, and I know that makes me selfish, Jace, I do. But I need to be selfish with you. Any other situation, I could tell the whole state of New York if I wanted to, but I can't here, and I hate it-,"

His lips silenced her mouth. Clary's eyes went wide. Jace stopped swiftly, but only to pull Clary into his arms for a bone-crushing hug. "I don't want better, Fray. I told you. I just want you."

Clary closed her eyes and let him hug her tightly. He hugged her in a way she craved, she needed. His hug was mending all the shattered and lifeless piece of her insides, bringing them together and strengthening them all at once. If felt so wholly good. She finally felt safe.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow, I have had a busy weekend. I'm sorry guys. I meant to update this yesterday. In return, this chapter is extra long, almost two thousand words extra. How did you like it? I think this was extra fluffy! Good old Clace.**

 **Btw, you guys have the best usernames. I swear, I love them. Much more creative than mine. So, who about fifteen reviews and I'll pick my favorite username from them? I don't know why I like playing these games. I like to get to know people who like reading my stories! FIFTEEN**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Clary shivered underneath the covers. She peeked her head out from under her cocoon. The moonlight streaming past the small layer of snow sitting on windowsill only made the air crisper. Her teeth began to tremble. "Jace?" she whispered.

"I know," he returned immediately from across the room. "They're too occupied to notice." Clary sat up, eyes searching in the darkness. She padded across the room with her blanket in hand, and when she got near, Jace reached out and pulled her down. He wrapped his cover around them, and Clary spread her cover over them as well. Jace's strong arms pulled her against his bare chest. Heat surrounded her. She moaned in relief and closed her eyes, savoring it at its peak. Jace muttered, "Damn baby, you're freezing."

Despite the pain as her toes began to warm, Clary smiled against his chest. Her lips were pressed against his chest, and it was warm, too. "Say that again."

Jace chuckled and ran his hands through her hair. "You're adorable."

"And freezing."

"And freezing," he added. Emerald eyes fluttered open, staring into golden ones. His hands ran down her sides and thighs. "Maybe if you had a little more fat on you, your thighs would only look like ice, not feel like them."

"Ass," Clary muttered, teeth chattering still. Jace snickered. "What are they doing? Why won't they go to sleep?"

Jace frowned. "What do you think happens at night between a married couple?"

Clary gagged. "It's sad they're getting it more than us."

"If you're that desperate, we can go right here," he said as he tickled her stomach. Clary gasped and smacked his hand away. His eyes were finally starting to show some glint of happiness. Clary played into his game.

She faked a gasp. "But what will the neighbors think?"

Jace's eyes darkened. He rolled them over, and suddenly Clary didn't care about keeping up any act. She wrapped her legs around his waist and was surprised to feel something firm pressing against her core. Her eyes fluttered shut, imagination running wild. "Fuck," she said breathlessly. Her vagina started pounding.

"I don't know. What _will_ they think?" Jace rolled off her and started laughing. Clary groaned.

"If they weren't right over there, doing exactly what I want to do with you, you wouldn't be winning this," she smacked his bare chest. A thought puzzled her. "You know, I've never gotten to see your tattoos."

Jace sighed loudly and shifted. He hovered overtop again. Clary watched with glee as he reached past her head at the lamp and turned it on. It hurt her eyes, but they adjusted. The sight before her was more beautiful than she expected. Black ink swirled in sharp patterns all over his body. There was as much black as there was white. It was transfixing. Right in the middle, there was a small, delicate rose. Clary's hand ran down his chest to the red flower. It was such a dark shade of red, almost black; the color of blood.

"Why the rose?"

Jace fell back to the bed, and Clary laid half on half off him. Her fingers ran over the patterns. It seemed never ending. Jace gripped her waist firmly, and it tightened as he spoke. "My mother was beautiful, but she ended in such a dark way…" The message he didn't say was clear. She was the only one who loved him. Everything stemmed from her at the center of his body and life.

"What was her name?" she whispered.

Jace sighed. His eyes shifted to the ceiling. "Cecil Montclair. She was so strong. Even after my dad beat her until she could hardly walk, she'd find ways to entertain me. Chess, mainly. Though she cheered until her lungs gave out the night I won best boxer in the state, she never cared whether I won or lost. If it had been up to her, we would have gotten ice cream after every match. Ice cream solved it all, she said."

A smile had crept up on both of their faces. Clary nuzzled into him even further. "My mother used to say art solved all her problems. It doesn't work for me, but I keep trying."

"What were their names?"

With a nostalgic sigh, "Jocelyn Fray and Luke Garraway. I didn't even know he wasn't my biological dad until they died. Organ donor."

Jace's brow puzzled. "How did the fire start?"

Clary shuddered. He held her gaze, but she wished she could look away. Even as she was still warming up, she felt heat scorching her from the inside out. Her heart rate sped as she recalled what she'd been told, endlessly. "It was a freak accident. My mom's curling iron was left on and started an electrical fire." Jace scoffed. Clary's eyes narrowed. She had trouble swallowing as she surveyed the level of disrespect he had. "You think that's funny?"

Jace looked at her slyly. His fingers grabbed a curl of Clary's and twirled with it. "You get your hair from your mom? Most girls do."

"Excuse me?" Clary pulled away. Her stomach felt uneasy, like food didn't settle well. "Yes. Why?"

Jace's eyes slid from her hair to her emerald eyes. "Because girls with curls," he emphasized by slinging more curls in front of her face, "don't use curling irons."

Clary didn't move. She never thought about that before, but she recognized it the moment the words slid out of his mouth. Her eyes blinked once, twice. How had she never _thought_ about that for one second? "Oh my God," she whispered.

Jace frowned. "You mean you didn't…?"

"She got it as a wedding gift and had it stored, unplugged, under our sink ever since, Jace." Clary's eyes started to water. It became hard to swallow again. She searched Jace's face, hoping for answers, but he was just as confused. "Why would the police lie?"

"It could have been planted evidence. Once they found that, they stopped looking." Jace said.

Clary's breathing was speeding up. Her whole life had been a lie. Her parents didn't just die. They were murdered. And somebody covered it up. Why? Her parents were perfect people. They didn't hurt anyone. They were simple people with simple lives. An artist and a coffee shop owner. Why?

"Hey," Jace whispered. Clary jerked her head up, tears glistening in her eyes. "We'll figure this out. Track down your brother."

That only made things worse. Imagining what would happen when she brought up the conspiracy theory to her brother, she slowly shook her head. "No. No, he can't know. He was there for me all his life. If he found out somebody was responsible for thrusting me upon him like that…there's no telling what he would and wouldn't do."

Jace rubbed a hand up and down her arm, wishing that would pull the glow of happiness back onto her cheeks. "You're no burden, Clary Fray. I wish you'd realize that. You do know you're the only person I can tolerate for over an hour straight, right?"

The statement meant a lot to her, but her lips wouldn't smile. "I didn't." She closed her eyes and pressed her head into his shoulder, willing sleep to lull her out of her agony. Behind closed eyes, though, she relived that night, searching for whoever murdered her parents. "You're my favorite person."

She didn't sleep that night.

. . .

Clary researched the house fire that killed her parents, but she didn't find anything. She searched reasons an arsonist would choose a house at random, but the chances were very low. Then she tried looking up something bad about her parents. They lived squeaky clean lives.

"Clary!" Simon's voice resonated. Clary jerked her head up. Simon had a book spread open on his lap. "Are you listening?"

"What? Yes," Clary lied.

"Then what was I talking about?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're mad that Eric is changing the name of the band…again." Simon opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Lucky guess," he muttered. "What's eating at you?" Just the way he phrased it made her cringe. Clary glanced at the entrance. Jace and Isabelle were convincing Alec to let Isabelle invite everyone over again. Alec sat in the popular section. Clary was impassive to that crowd aside from the fact that the three girls who made moves on Jace their first day at school identified with that crowd. And they didn't disappoint. They were slowly inching closer, less affected by Jace's sharp glare than others. "Hey, did Isabelle ask if I was coming to the party?"

One of the girls ran a hand down Jace's bicep. A boiling pit formed in my stomach. I snapped, "She's not into you, Simon."

He sneered, "What? Because I'm not badass like Jace?" Clary's head whipped around. Simon rolled his eyes. "I see you looking. You know he could never care for you, even if it were legal. He's an ass through and through." Clary squinted her eyes. She didn't need this right now. Her anger was already reaching its peak. "It's just lust. You can do better."

"Out of my many options?" she muttered, and then she was seeing red. "I'll see you at the party. The party that Isabelle is throwing so we can meet her boyfriend she's clearly in love with. The reason she's not into you."

Simon's mouth dropped open. I stood. He began to apologize, but I didn't want to hear it. Jace caught my eye halfway across the cafeteria. He jerked his head. I looked back at Simon, who was staring at me like a kicked puppy. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I made my way to Jace and Isabelle. She was smiling. "Alec said yes."

"Great," I muttered. The three girls were eyeing us from over Jace's shoulders. I felt the sudden urge to jump them. Jace's eyes met mine, pleading. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, stepping back when he reached for me. Isabelle frowned. She peered suspiciously between us. "What? I know you want to say something. Just say it already."

Isabelle raised one taunting eyebrow. She scoffed, "Why haven't you two fucked yet? You literally sleep in the same room."

Jace chuckled deviously. His smirk made Clary madder. It was a joke to him. Her sexual frustration and jealousy was hilarious to him. Clary hissed, "How did you know that?"

Isabelle laughed. "You look ready to fight someone."

"She's fighting you today," Jace chanced a subject change. Isabelle waved him off. She took Clary by the arm and pulled her aside.

"What's the problem?" she asked again. Clary stole a furtive glance to Jace. He had moved back to Alec's side. They were speaking animatedly about something, but she wasn't concerned with that. Her eyes trailed over his body. His strong arms flexed as he crossed them over his chest. The curls were crazier than ever. All she wanted to do was kiss him endlessly.

"I don't want to worry about Celine or Stephen walking in," she mumbled, "or worse, one of them joining in. They're crazy fuckers. I wouldn't put it past either of them for two totally different reasons."

Isabelle burst into laughter. Clary shrugged. It was the truth. Celine would probably just want to please them. Stephen already eyed Clary like candy. Iz gasped, "Leave it up to me! I'll keep tonight small. You can have my bed. It'll fun."

Clary scoffed, avoiding her friend's gaze. She meant well. "Thanks, Izzy, but I think Jace and I want to do this on our own. If that's okay with you, of course." Isabelle pouted and swiped at her hair.

"Suit yourself," she chirped. Clary frowned. Isabelle walked back over to her seat, flirting with the nearest jock. She glanced at Clary and winked. Then she proceeded to sit on his lap, whispering dirty things in the guy's ear. When he began to make an actual move on her, she shut him and his lips down, but the message was clear. And Clary was pissed.

She took out her aggression on the girl during last period. Clary may have lost, but Isabelle didn't walk out of there unscathed. She'd made sure to leave a nice bruise to form on her chin. Isabelle left one on her left rib cage and right abdomen. With sweat dripping down her face, she fell into Jace as the bell rang. He was grinning and easily sat her on a bench to rest. "You got her good, Red."

She smiled weakly. "I'm going to get her again tonight," she grumbled, pulling on the elastic around her gloves. It wouldn't come off, sticking and clinging to her body and the Velcro.

Jace chuckled. He undid the Velcro slowly, eyeing Clary in an unsure way. "Why?"

Clary looked up with a glare as Isabelle and Alec laughed, walking out the gym to prepare for their party. She huffed and sat back. Jace tossed her his hoodie and together they began their walk home. It was these times when they risked showing affection. Clary's feet were dragging. Jace rolled his eyes and threw Clary over his shoulder. "Jace! Put me down!"

Her fists pounded into his back weakly. "Not until you tell me why you want to beat up Isabelle," he snickered, smacking her butt in a way that stung more than anything. Clary squealed and kicked him in the chest. He didn't budge. "I'm not necessarily opposed to your idea, of course. I'm just curious."

Clary maneuvered around so that she clung to his back like a monkey. A smile flittered onto her lips. She almost enjoyed this and rested her head next to his ear. Reluctantly, she muttered, "She tried to help me seduce you or some shit like that."

"I like the sound of that."

Clary groaned and hit him lightly on the head. "I can seduce you on my own, thank you very much!"

"If you want to prove it, I wouldn't mind," Jace said.

The way he smiled back at Clary sent her heart racing. She tried to push back the anger. The way Isabelle sat so boldly on a random guy's lap with her smug smile replayed in her mind. She sighed and pushed it to the back of her mind. She had sex before. She knew the works. Being a tease was something Isabelle did, but Clary delivered.

And suddenly, she was seriously debating Isabelle's offer.

. . .

The party was anything but small. Everyone was in the basement. Clary only caught a glimpse of Isabelle's dark hair. She was supposed to meet Isabelle's boyfriend that she was so crazy about. She spotted Simon at the bar. Alec walked up to Jace and Clary.

"You give your friend a drop of liquor and he doesn't stop," Alec sighed dully. Clary frowned as Jace disappeared.

"You don't like these parties, do you?" she asked. Alec shrugged. His blue eyes were startling. They chilled her. He was a striking type of beautiful similar to Jace, but different all the same. He was cold to her skin and ears alike.

"I don't like these people particularly," Alec said as he narrowly avoided a person as she ran outside to puke. Clary shivered.

"Where are you parents?" she asked. Jace's blonde hair came into sight again. He was holding two full solo cups. Clary grinned and took one gratefully.

"Mom's at the Hamptons. Dad moved into a separate apartment," he said, eyes scanning the area. "Isabelle wanted to have it at our apartment. Obviously, I said no. Now this is all her mess to clean up in the morning, not mine." Clary took a sip of her drink. It wasn't as strong as she was expecting. Jace winked and downed half of his. "Who would even want a ton of teenagers dry-humping each other in their houses every weekend?"

Jace slung his arm around Clary's neck, forgetting their 'sibling' act. "Somebody who knows how much fun your so called 'dry-humping' is. Though, I prefer the term grinding between you and me, my friend."

Clary could sense Alec's anger, but Jace couldn't. She eyed them nervously and decided it was best to finish her drink. "Would you like an example?"

Jace winked at Alec and pulled Clary on the dance floor, spilling the remainder of her drink. Her eyes went wide. "Jace, there's people here."

His chest was to her back, and he locker her hips so she couldn't leave. His hot breath whispered, "Let them look. Let them talk. I don't give a damn."

A hot wave of heat entered through her head and never left, settling in her gut. Clary forced a smile back by biting her lip. She closed her eyes and took two deep breaths, savoring the fleeting moment. Her heartstrings tugged as she opened her eyes and said, "I do."

Clary lost Jace in the crowd of people. Her mind had her going far away from him. He was tempting and slightly drunk. Talking him out of dancing was hard to do. Clary met up with Simon and Isabelle at the bar. Isabelle was more than wasted and the party only started an hour ago.

"Claryy!" she slurred. Clary met eyes with Simon. They both laughed and supported Isabelle's weight until she could lean properly against the wall. "Have you seen my…boyfriend?" The words were less audible than she'd have wanted. Simon just stuffed a drink under her chin and poured.

"Water for her, vodka for you," he said, placing a swirling pink mixture into Clary's hands. Simon groaned. "I don't see how he can do that?"

His eyes were locked on the dance floor. Sipping her drink carefully, Clary looked in his direction. Isabelle did the same, seeing what he saw before even Clary did. Her loud gasp caught the attention of many and worried Clary. Jace was on the dance floor with not one but two girls grinding their asses up on him. These weren't the normal girls either.

"OOooo, you better tell Helen and Aline to get off your man, bitch!" Isabelle slapped Clary on the back. She flinched, drink falling out of her hands. Her eyes took time adjusting to the scene. He wasn't even concerned about her wandering eyes, either. Tipping the contents of his solo cup into his mouth, Jace's hands slapped either butt. His eyes had the foggy light in them as he watched the girls grind on each other now.

Clary's dark thoughts started approaching. Her hands trembled, but she wasn't angry. Her heart was stabbing her repeatedly, but she wasn't angry. She'd always known there were other things better than her. She couldn't compare with those two girls. Jace was allowed to be seen publically with them. He got to show them off on his arms. He got to have that infamous yet envied playboy reputation.

"Clary, what's she talking about?" Simon asked, jerking on her arm. He retrieved her fallen cup.

Clary gulped. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the three, though. He now was back to just watching, but that didn't hurt any less. And it was out of her power to do anything about that. "Nothing, Simon. She's drunk."

Clary walked behind the counter, bending down to retrieve an untouched bottle of vodka. It was a sour raspberry flavor, which would work as well as any for her. "I'm going to get some air."

"Want some company?" Simon asked, already taking a few steps towards her. Clary's hand pressed against his chest before she could remember deciding to do so. She sighed apologetically.

"No. I don't." She stumbled into his shoulder as she nearly ran from the dancing crowd. One last look back over her shoulder, her eyes connected to the sullen golden ones and instantly looked away. She felt tears welling and took a swig or two of alcohol.

Clary found Isabelle's room eventually. As expected, it was empty. She flung herself on the bed and shut off the light illuminating the already dark room.

With nothing to look at but oblivion, her mind was laid out before her. Her soul was crushingly alone. Even Jace chose those girls over her. It made sense. She couldn't be mad about it, either, but it hurt. It hurt that she meant so little to people. Every time she moved, it wasn't that bad. She knew to keep her distance. Jace was too hard to stay away from, though. He was normally always there, too. It was his right to be a separate person, too.

It still hurt.

The black of the ceiling seemed endless, like it was space without the stars she was looking at. It reminded her of staring up through the roof of her old building, the one where her parents died. Another thought occurred to her. Her parents didn't leave. They were taken from her.

For a moment, she felt relief. Maybe she hadn't done something to deserve God's wrath of solitude.

Then the sickening feeling in her stomach had Clary taking three more swigs from the bottle. She was happy her parents were possibly murdered? How could she be? What daughter in her right mind felt relief at that statement?

After two more swigs, the guilt retreated to the back of her mind. She was left alone again. For some reason, she swore she heard Jonathan's voice. At that, she scoffed. Clary was truly losing her mind, now. It would be her luck to remember the man who truly left her. He had no reason to. It was all his option.

He could have applied to gain custody over Clary, let her live with family, not separate the two who would voluntarily get kicked out of nice, happy homes in order to be placed together. They were family. Family stuck together. At least, that was what she used to think. Now, she realized nobody stuck together. Nobody would stick with her, at least.

All around her, people had friends. People had family. They had somebody praising them, supporting them, looking out for their well-being. All Clary had was an unethical boyfriend and friends who would never understand her.

Who would look out for her? Who would celebrate minor and major victories with her? Who would look at her painting and instantly think it was amazing? Why was she so alone? What did she do to bring this upon herself?

A tear fell down her cheek. Two more followed. And then it was like a dam breaking loose. With each tear, her fears maximized.

Nobody would care if she died today. Nobody would notice. Jace and her friends would grieve for one maybe two weeks and then find somebody else, somebody with a better smile and a lighter laugh. Her parents were gone. Her brother deserted her. All the many people claiming to love her in all the homes she'd been shut the door in her face the moment the checks stopped coming. Nobody cared about a girl like her.

With a loud scream, Clary flung the nearly empty bottle of vodka at the door. It crashed with a sound of crystals shattering, the sound of her heart dying again and again, repeatedly. Her sobs were drowned out with the music.

She knew it hurt, crying this hard. Her body shook. Her mind shook. Even the blackness of the room was shaking. The door was opening, and her body lost all control. She kept crying, vision blurred to the point that she didn't know who entered. She didn't care either.

"Get. Out." She wailed, pointing to the door. She didn't want anyone she could have. She wanted her parents. She wanted her mother to pet her hair and give her a cup of hot chocolate even when she asked for coffee. She wanted her father's strong arms to wrap around her and whisper that she was smart, strong, and destined for happiness.

Where was her happiness now?

"Clary, it's me. I'm so sorry. I'm here now."

* * *

 **A/N: Guys, I'm so busy these days. This wasn't edited. I'm so sorry! And I have no time so I'll pick my favorite username next time. They are all pretty awesome! Love you guys. THanks for reading!**

 **Who is at the door?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

 **Warning: There is a part of this that is M rated. If you are not comfortable with sex scenes, there will be a part below that TELLS YOU WHERE TO SKIP OVER. Please do not just skip this chapter. There are important parts here. So read until you meet my next bolded warning. It will direct you where you can continue to.**

* * *

I looked up at the sound of his voice. "I don't want you here," I said, voice cracking. My throat hurt.

Jace shut the door. "You know that was for show. We spend so much time together…"

My anger was back in me. I sat hunched over on the side of the bed, halfway between vomiting out of disgust and alcohol. "What's next? Should I go fuck somebody? Put on a sweet show of it?"

Jace's voice hurt to hear. It was unlike it was normally. He had guilt in it, but Clary refused to hear it. "I thought you wanted that. You were right. Too many people were there."

Clary felt sobs ripping through her body again, building. She lied back down, clutching her hands to her chest as she stared with dead eyes at the wall. It seemed too bright in here again. It was because of him.

"Well go then. Go dance with more skanks." She sighed, her voice without the terrible emotion she felt building inside her.

"Not until you're okay."

Clary whirled around, tears running down her cheeks like a waterfall. "I'm fine! Can't you see that? I'm fine without you. Leave!"

Jace's face morphed into agony, the same level she was feeling inside her heart. Then he was by her side, reaching out for her. And Clary? She couldn't refuse his touch any more than she could refuse her own parent's hugs if they were here. She needed it. She needed somebody. She needed support. So Jace pulled her onto his lap as she sobbed. Some of it was over Jace. Most of it was over her life, her lonely life.

Jace's arms resembled her dad's, and she hated it. She hated that it calmed her. She tried to hold on to the feeling of loneliness, but he made it impossible. Clary didn't know when she finally stopped sobbing. It became aware to her that all she could hear was the sound of music in the background and Jace's heart as he cradled her body.

"I'm sorry." Jace whispered, running his hand over her hair. His voice was thick with emotion. "I told you. You deserve better."

Clary couldn't remember hearing that and actually agreeing to it. She shook her head and nuzzled further into his chest. "I need you. That – that's the problem. I _need_ you."

Jace pressed his warm lips to her forehead. "I'm here. I promise."

Clary pulled away in a gasp. She wiped at her eyes and shook her head. "Don't promise me that. J-Jonathan promised me that and now he's just…gone."

Jace breathed out slowly. "You're all I think about, Red. You're the only thing that matters anymore. So if you need me, I'm here. Anytime."

The weight of his words settled on her mind heavily. Her hands shook as she stared into his golden orbs. They were shining brighter than they were earlier. It was with the brightness she always craved to see in him. Clary's green eyes searched his, desperate for a way to quell her nerves.

"Jace," she said as her body trembled. "I think this alcohol is making me weird - stupid."

He frowned. Clary stood and sat beside him, looking at her hands. Jace asked, "How?"

She shook her head. "I keep thinking about those girls. How you looked at them, how they danced with you…" Jace laughed, and her head snapped to him. The smile on his face made her feel more embarrassed than anything in that moment. "It's dumb, I know. I'm not normally like this."

Then, Jace grabbed her arms and threw her back on the bed. She gasped, and his body fell on top of hers. "You do know they're lesbians, right?" Clary's face paled. A giggle escaped her lips. "Even if they weren't, how could you ever think I'd want anyone but you?"

His eyes were directly in front of her. His breath caressed her lips. She inhaled slowly and smiled. "How badly do you want me?"

Jace's face twisted into a sexy smirk that had Clary moving her hands around his neck. "Ever since I saw you and your stubborn little mouth opened…I could have fucked you right there."

Her confidence was building. "You should have," she whispered. Jace grinned ruefully, and then he slammed his lips on to hers. It was like a breath of fresh air. Her eyes shut and she reveled in the warm feeling of his lips on hers.

Jace wanted her. He wanted her mind and her body. He didn't care when or how. Clary wanted him just as badly.

His tongue slid along her bottom lip, and Clary opened her mouth into the kiss. Jace's body rested on top of hers, but it wasn't uncomfortable in the least. It was just another blissful reminder that he was there. That she wasn't alone anymore.

. . .

 **Warning: This is where things get graphic. If you aren't comfortable with reading sex scenes, I suggest turning away now, but DO NOT leave. Skip down to the next warning part because important things happen after this.**

Clary twined her hands in Jace's curly locks so tight she'd never be torn from him. Clary's tongue slid along his in a slow, heated kiss. There was so much want in it, so much desire. Jace's voice whispered into her ear, hot and husky, making her arch her back toward him more. "I need you, baby. Please."

Clary shoved against him with what little strength she had. Jace and her tumbled over each other, and then she was resting on top of him. With a glint in her eye and a lustful gaze, her hands went to her shirt. "I don't care about the consequences anymore. If they find out, they find out. But tonight, I'm all yours."

With a swift tug, Clary pulled her shirt off. Jace's eyes shot down immediately. As she leaned over and worked on his shirt, his eyes took in the beauty of her and her lacey black bra. When he pulled the shirt over his shoulders, the two just stared. Then, Clary kissed him at a harder, faster speed than before. It displayed all of her pent up desires and fantasies. Her hands felt his abs tighten as her body grinded against his.

His hand felt her up over her bra, and then underneath. Clary gasped, and Jace took the opportunity to pull her body directly against his. His lips kissed down her neck, breathing heavily over her already blushing regions. Whatever it was in his breath, it sent her body tingling. Jace undid the clasp of her bra, and in seconds, he was on top again. He took his time working his way to her chest. When he did, she felt all the sensation she'd dreamed of and more.

He sucked hard on the lowest section of her neck, so hard she was moaning. Electricity flowed fluidly between them, and she had no control over her body from that point forward. It didn't matter. Nobody could hear them over the drum of the music below them, feeding them even more hyper energy.

The heat between them had soared into a raging fire, one even Clary didn't want to douse. When his lips latched onto her nipple, she threw her head back and bit her lip to keep from screaming. His tongue worked magic.

Jace's hands moved from her waist down to her pants. He paused at the top of them, running a hand over her toned stomach. "Yes," she said without the need for a question. It was clear. Then his hands were down her pants, and she couldn't remember a better feeling in the world. He took his time, teasing her and making heat flood down to her core.

His long fingers finally plunged into her. "Jace," she whimpered as he mercilessly pumped her until his hand was dripping. His lips found hers again. Clary couldn't take it any longer. She needed to see him throw his head back with the same amount of pleasure.

She shimmied out of her pants, giving him time to do the same. "Fuck, do you have a condom?"

Jace snorted. He produced a purple foil package from his jeans, which he finally discarded alongside his boxers. Clary eagerly jumped back to the bed, finally catching sight of his dick. She grew an excited smile, aching for that between her legs. Jace wore a crooked smile as he rolled the condom on. Then, he jumped back on top of Clary.

Her panties were still on. Jace's hands ripped them off of her body like they were paper. Clary didn't flinch. He kissed her again as she wound her hands around his neck. Jace grinned from above her, pulling her legs upward to rest over his shoulders. Her heart was beating a thousand times a minute. And then, there was a pause as nobody moved. Jace's lips paused yet still pressed against hers. Then, she felt him enter her.

She let out a loud gasp. Jace stopped. He opened his eyes, speaking like it was painful. "You okay?"

Clary opened her eyes. She stared into his beautiful golden orbs with absolute adoration and nodded eagerly. She leaned forward, appreciating the feeling of moving with him inside her. "Fuck me, Jace. Please." He kissed her again as he began to move inside her. Clary's nails dug into his back. "Hard." Jace didn't hold back after that. He rammed into her so far she could feel her entire body shake. Every stroke, she met him as well. Jace's hand reached between them and strummed over her clit.

And Clary saw white.

Every atom in her body tingled. She'd never been so close to her climax so soon before, but she knew this feeling well. "Oh, Jace!" She said as he hit farther back.

"That's right," he said, pinching her clit in a way that sent sparks through her body. Everything zoned out. All she could see was Jace's beautiful face as he fucked her brains out surrounded by a blur of white. She felt warm from the core as he and her connected with fireworks. "Come for me, babe. Say my name."

And it all exploded, but not in the way that put everything back to normal. She came in a way that sent things off on a rocket, launched to the moon but never destined to return. "Jace," Clary whimpered as she clung on to his body.

Jace had slowed his pace for her, and when she finally finished, she looked up at him with determination. "My turn," she said in a low voice. Jace's eyes were black with lust at this point. He pulled out, harder than she'd ever seen him before. Clary flipped them around, straddling Jace's waist. She shoved him roughly back on the bed.

He grinned roguishly.

He offered Clary his hands to hold, and she gripped them tight. Then, she slowly lowered her opening over his dick. Jace's expression shifted into something that could only be described as absolute pleasure. He bit his lip in a way that made Clary's stomach coil. Leaning forward, she found it much easier to move her hips up and down than it used to be. His workouts clearly helped.

Her butt bounced up and down, slower than the pace Jace had been fucking her with, but with a totally different feeling. It rubbed her clit more than before, so much more. She could feel her second orgasm building. Jace's hands clenched tighter around hers, and his hips thrust upward to meet with hers.

"Fuck, Clary," he groaned, eyes clenching shut. Clary pushed away from his hands. As heat seared through her entire body, pulsing, she used her legs to move up and down. Jace sat up, hands gripping her ass tightly. As they worked together, Clary felt her urge to scream and release building on the edge. She bit her lip. "I can't – I have to-," Jace never finished his sentence. With one loud grunt and a thrust so hard it sent Clary shaking, he came. Clary continued riding him as he orgasmed. After a few more minutes of rubbing up on him and a little help from her fingers, she had her second orgasm of the night, screaming into his skin.

After, neither said a word until they could catch their breaths. Jace was still panting when he sat up. His eyes were glossy but as bright as a star. "You are so sexy, Clary. You felt so fucking good," he groaned. Clary smiled weakly at him, brushing her hair out of her eyes. He was on his back, and Clary rolled to her stomach, chin resting on his chest as she stared up at him. Her whole body was still tingling, still buzzing with energy.

"I've never come twice in one go before," Clary blushed. Though they weren't completely sober before, after their activities, she had a good assumption that they'd sweated it all out of their systems. She knew she'd never forget this night, not a chance.

Clary glanced down and snorted. Jace craned his neck, exhaustion clear in his slow movements. "What?" With a wink, she reached down and pulled the condom off of his dick. She tossed it aside, but the semen was still covering his dick. He grumbled and began to get up.

"I got it," she smiled and pecked his lips once before inching down his body. When her lips surrounded his dick, he gasped in surprise. Though he was soft, he didn't stay that way long. However, it only took Clary one bob of her head to wipe it clean. She licked her lips proudly when she reappeared on his chest.

"I think I'm in fucking love," he cursed with a ring of laughter as he shifted Clary closer to his head. It was also a good position to quell his now-aching member. His soft lips pressed against her forehead. Clary's heart soared at the gesture. She loved this feeling. She'd fucked before, but this was different. It was so much better. It was less about the idea of getting the other to orgasm. It was about connecting in that final way together, their souls colliding in a bond that was absolutely unbreakable. He was right. She thought she was in fucking love, too.

. . .

 **Warning: You're in the clear. The sex scene is over. I suggest reading the last two or three paragraphs above (for sure the last), but you don't miss much. Read!**

Clary used the bathroom, noticing just how much Isabelle took with her when she left. Her heart sank. This divorce must have been more serious than she thought. With that in mind, she walked out of the bathroom and found Jace's shirt on the floor. She pulled it on, but it did no good. The neckline was so low it exposed everything.

Jace laughed from the bed. "Good try," he said. Clary flipped him off and threw the shirt at him. When she climbed into bed, Jace wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. Even butt naked in Isabelle's room, she was pretty sure since Jace entered, she hadn't been cold once. His arms secured around her body and head nuzzled into her neck, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so safe, so at ease.

"I like this," she sighed.

"I like you," he kissed her neck swiftly. Clary blushed, arching her back into him as her body shivered. She could feel something hard pressing along her butt.

"You're ready for round two already?" Clary teased. Jace's hand pinched her skin and she jumped, turning in his arms so that their chests were pressed together.

"I told you, babe, you're hot," Jace's hand rested on her butt and pulled them directly against one another. Clary smiled, kissing him once before sighing contently.

"I'm happy," she declared with a wave of relief flowing through her. "I didn't think it could happen again since Jonathan, but…I'm happy. Nothing could ruin this moment."

Jace stayed quiet as they lied together in the stark darkness. The party music still pounded loudly in the background, drowning out any voices in the hall. It was just them and the background. Their breathing mixed into one. She inhaled softly. Jace smelled of safety. She noticed that his gaze hadn't shifted for a good five minutes.

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered.

Jace took his time about answering. "I'm living a lie. You make me feel so wholly good, a white angel in the dark night. But really, I'm the angel of the darkness." He shrugged. "I just can't forget that. You distract me."

Clary frowned. "Why can't you forget it? He deserved to die, Jace. The things he did were unthinkable."

A breath of frustrated air left his mouth, blowing red curls away from her face. She pulled back, looking into his eyes for the answer. She couldn't understand why he was so hard on himself. He didn't deserve that much guilt. "I killed her, too, Clary. I left her alone with him in one of his moods."

Clary's head was shaking before he'd even finished the sentence. "You didn't know…"

"I should have."

"It wasn't your job, Jace." His eyes had lost the light she'd so desperately tried to bring back in him. Clary's heart squeezed with pain. Sometimes, she feared she was losing him. These were one of those times. She could see it in his dull eyes, feel it in his loosened grip, and hear it in his words.

His sigh came from habit of settling. Clary wished she had the words to make it better just like she was sure he wished he had the words to assure her of his presence. In reality, nobody could do that except by just being there. And sometimes, that proved to be exceptionally hard.

The next five seconds happened in slow motion, but everything after that happened in a blink of an eye. The next thing she knew, she was being shipped off to the next home.

The door flung open. And in its bright light stood the silhouette of the single most unexpected person, the person she wanted desperately yet also hated passionately. And he was furious.

* * *

 **A/N: Guys, I am not a smutty writer. I hope I did them justice. I'd love to hear your feedback. Many of you guessed who was at the door and many suspected Jonathan. Well, who is it now? What do you think his reaction will be?**

 **So! The winner of my favorite review's username is… "Married to a Herondale" and it's actually a person who just favored and followed my story, but it just made me go 'ME ToO!' Some of my other favorite ones include "imcrazyanditscontagous" because ME TOO! Also, a very awesome reviewer is TheMortalBlade who leaves reviews often and aren't too short! I was checking out some of the past reviews and a name jumped out at me. 'Real Life Trash' I so should have that as my username. I hope you're still reading.**

 **I read a story where an author responds to every review. I wish I had the time to do that. I didn't even have time to read over and check the grammar on all of this. But trust me when I say all your reviews are read and cherished. It's like every review is about fifty likes on instagram. It makes me so happy!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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When Clary was little, yet old enough to be punished, she used to be a mischievous little girl. Her family knew it. She'd run around the house with Jonathan's favorite toy gun, one of her mother's nicest shoes, and her father's newest book. Every weekend, all of her family would be thirty minutes late because she'd hide their things. It was something she did throughout the summer. And they loved her. She'd never be punished, which only made it more fun. Jonathan would get in trouble for so much as displacing Clary's coloring book.

When school started, her family had less time for her. She was only in kindergarten at the time, but she missed the days when her father and brother would team up to start a tickle war on Clary. She missed when she could 'paint' her mother's in the mornings. So she decided to bring back one of her fun games she'd play on them. One Monday morning, she stole her father's shirt, Jonathan's Gameboy, and her mother's lipstick.

She turned off all of their alarms, too. Then they'd have to stay home and play with her. She climbed in bed with her mother, snuggling up close, and smiled. This was exactly what she wanted.

But her mother woke up. Jocelyn looked at the clock and went into a panic. She shook Luke away. "Luke! Luke, wake up, we overslept. We're thirty minutes late!"

To Clary's dismay, her mother didn't let her do her make up. Jonathan didn't wake her up by tackling her with tickles. Luke didn't make her favorite food for breakfast.

It was the first time she'd been yelled at.

Her mother groaned, "Clarissa! Where did you put my lipstick?" She was bearable. When Clary started giggling, she just looked at her with disdain. "I've got to go. Luke, you'll get them to school?"

"Yes," he growled from under the bed. "Where's my shirt?"

"Clary hid our stuff!" Jonathan yelled as Jocelyn slammed the door in a hurry. He came barreling in the room. Clary was still on the bed, watching her favorite activity unfold. She giggled and shrugged.

"I will kill you!" Jonathan yelled as he lunged on the bed. Clary's eyes went wide. His hands clasped around her neck.

"Jon!" Luke yelled, ripping him off of the little girl. Clary didn't find this activity fun anymore. "Where's my shirt, Clary?"

Clary frowned. His words were so harsh. She scooted back in the bed, pulling the covers up to her chest. "I – I forget," she mumbled.

"You forget? Give me my Gameboy! If you lost that, you're so dead!" Jonathan yelled. "You need to grow up sometime! This is so stupid! Dad, do something!"

Luke looked under the bed and pulled out the shirt. He sighed with content and looked at Clary with a disappointed glare. "Clary, your games have to stop. Go find his Gameboy or you don't get to have TV time today."

He'd never threatened to take away her TV time before. Shame filled her, and she slowly climbed out of bed. "Hurry!" Jonathan screeched. She flinched and ran off, tears stinging her eyes. Why were they being so mean to her? They thought it was funny before? What changed?

"You're such a dumb girl. Do something better. Go scribble in your dumb drawing book. Stop messing with my stuff!" Jonathan followed her around the house for fifteen minutes until she finally found it in her sock drawer.

She turned to Jonathan. He yanked it out of her hands. "I – I'm sorry, Johnny."

"I told you not to call me that!" he shoved her to her butt on the carpet and stormed away. Tears fell down her cheeks, and nobody wiped them away. It was the first time Jonathan had ever been so rude to her. He'd never raised his voice before. She thought he liked her. Clearly, she was wrong.

For some reason, that memory replayed in her mind as Jonathan stood in the doorway. His face was white-stricken. His form rigid, Clary hardly recognized him. Isabelle giggled and entered the room, oblivious to the two in the bed. "Come on, Jonnnn."

Clary sat up, pulling the blanket around her body. She meant to speak, but what was there to say? Jonathan looked older than she remembered. His white hair had grown out longer now, and the black of his eyes was colder, much colder.

"Clary? I thought you didn't want to use my room," Isabelle whined like a child. She swayed on her feet as she stepped back to Jonathan. With a huff, she gestured to him. "Well, this is my boyfriendd. Come on. We can sleep in my parent's room. They'll be furious!" She was so excited, so oblivious.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out of her mouth without emotion. It was hard to describe the emotion she held for her brother. Whenever she pictured him returning, she never imagined feeling so sick. She felt honestly sick to her stomach. Clary felt the crippling pain of a cramp, making her wish she could vomit and get rid of it. "Why haven't you answered me? Where have you been?" They were spewing uncontrollably now. With every question, she felt the need to vomit more and more. "Why did you ignore my letter? Why did you ignore me, Jonathan?"

Jonathan gulped. He looked between Clary and Jace, anger lacing between his eyes. His fists clenched. "Maybe you should get dressed first."

Clary frowned. "It's a simple answer. Where have you been?"

"Who's he?" Jonathan gestured at Jace. He groaned and sat up.

"Somebody who likes to be around me. Who are you?" Clary hissed.

"Also her brother," Isabelle snickered. Clary's cheeks burned. She glared at him, daring him to challenge the comment.

"Clary, it's complicated-," Jonathan began.

Tears burned the back of her eyes. She refused to let them spill, not in front of him. He didn't deserve to know how much he'd hurt her. Isabelle threw Jace his underwear. "Gross." She said.

Jace climbed out of bed and tossed Clary her shirt. "Wait outside," Jace suggested, but there was no room for argument in that statement. He walked forward, ushering Isabelle out of the door. Jonathan didn't move, even as Jace closed the door in his face. Jace turned around.

Clary pulled her knees up to her chest. "I feel sick," she muttered. Jace ran a hand through his hair.

"I know," he sighed and placed her clothes in front of her. "Come on. Let's hear him out."

Clary shook her head. "He doesn't deserve that much."

Jace sat on the bed as he pulled on his shirt. "Aren't you curious?"

Clary remembered again of how he'd yelled at her when she was little. It felt like that all over again. He'd never left her before, and now that he came back, she felt the shame of it all, as if she'd done something wrong. In the end, Clary got her clothes on. They found Jonathan waiting outside the door. Isabelle had drifted off elsewhere. Jonathan looked between Jace and Clary, thoroughly pissed.

Clary turned to Jace. "Can I meet you outside?"

Jace caught on quickly. He glanced at Jonathan in an unkind way that she normally associated him doing with Simon specifically. He nodded, pressed a long kiss to her forehead, and whispered, "I love you."

Clary sucked in a breath of air, but Jace was gone before she opened her eyes. Her mind blanked. Jace just said he loved her. Where did it come from? Suddenly, she no longer wanted to deal with Jonathan, but she had to. She took a deep breath and turned to her brother.

"Is he going to walk you home? Oh, of course, you have the same home. Why wouldn't he?" Jonathan snarled, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. Clary rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall. Her energy had already been drained for tonight.

"Where have you been?"

Jonathan groaned. He leaned against the wall with even less energy. Despite herself, the worrying bones in her body shouted out questions she refused to say. "It's a long story."

She shrugged. "I have time."

His eyes looked painfully into Clary's. It was those eyes that made them first ask their parents if Jonathan had been adopted. Their response was that that neither of them had or ever would leave their care for a second of their lives.

"There are things you just don't understand," Jonathan pulled harshly at his hair. "You and I remember the fire so differently. I needed a break. I couldn't constantly be reminded of it."

Her fears were being confirmed. "And I remind you of it…of them. You don't want me around."

Jonathan cursed. "Of course I do, Clare-bear," he reached out for her shoulder, but she flinched away. Jonathan retracted his hand carefully. He gulped. "I got a job. I'm renting an apartment with Alec and Isabelle right now." She sighed. "They're moving into a bigger apartment, though, specially modified. Their parents own it, but they said I could live there for a cheap rent. There's room for you."

"How did you even meet Isabelle?" Clary sneered. It wasn't the most important question on her mind, but she'd take anything to avoid his proposition. It made her even sicker than before.

He frowned unsurely. "We dated a while back and caught up when I turned in my final papers to Big Bev. She was there, bribing somebody in the off chance that her parent's divorce got messy and Max would need to be relocated. She was pretty damn pissed when they wouldn't give him to-,"

"I don't care about that!" Clary suddenly snapped. She hated it. She hated that he knew so much about a new girlfriend than his own flesh and blood. He was living it up with a job, an apartment, and a girlfriend meanwhile Clary had been relocated into a nutty person's home with an even more mental foster father. She'd been struggling to survive without anyone to have her back for two months now. And he was just coasting by. "You deserted me, Jonathan. You left me to fend for myself, alone."

Her voice was at a high shout, and it surprised Jonathan. Clary didn't shout. "I – I'm sorry, Clary. I'm here now. Please, come live with me. You can even legally date biker boy out there."

Clary's fists clenched. He'd use anything to get what he wanted when he wanted it. "Now? I don't need you now. I needed you when I spent weeks alone. I needed you when I missed Mom and Dad, when it was all I could do not to burst into tears and wake everyone up. I needed you to put a smile on my face. Where were you when I just needed somebody to talk to instead of crying myself to sleep? Huh?"

Silence.

"Why does it change a fucking thing that you're here _now_? If I mean so little to you that you can push me aside and pull me back in when it's just convenient, I don't want to live with you. You made me sick, Jonathan. Our parents would be so ashamed."

Clary had tears streaming down her cheeks. She choked on sobs as she turned away and ran. Jonathan lashed out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her to a stop. "What did you just say to me?"

Clary snatched her wrist back. She stared him coldly in the eyes and watched as his resolve broke to her furious burning green glare. Her feet pounded harshly against the floor as she fled the monster. Her heart hardened, but her gut didn't. With the alcohol, the pounding bass, and the past seeping into her life, Clary finally emptied her stomach outside. It didn't feel any better.

Jace found her bent over, waiting on the second round of vomit to come, but it never did. She finally stood. Clary looked at Jace like she wanted to vomit again. She shook her head dismally. Jace didn't ask a thing. Together, they walked home in silence. Numbly, Clary's hand found Jace's. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, but even that didn't push away the chilling coldness of the seemingly perfect evening. All Clary felt was the cold snow slapping all senses out of her cheeks.

. . .

The Scarlet Letter was torture to most high school kids forced to read the book. It was written in 1850 by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The three words 'long romance novel' used to describe this literature turned more than half of kids off from the idea of reading such a thing. Clary had read it twice. She was working on her third time in hopes of distracting her mind.

Most people took the protagonist's side. She had an illegitimate son in the 17th century town of Puritans and was forced to be publically shamed, dawning a scarlet letter 'A' on her clothes, which stood for 'adulterer.' While Clary favored the predicament around shame for sleeping with a man of her choosing, somebody else caught her attention in this novel as well. His intentions rightfully vengeful, the presumed lost at sea husband of the adulteress stumbled back to his wife in the middle of her public shaming. Being filled in, he vowed to find the man she slept with, yet he hides his shame in a new identity. Clary found it a troublesome dilemma. He was so angry he needed revenge on the man his wife slept with when she assumed he himself was dead, yet he had such high pride that he couldn't reveal that he was, in fact, her real husband. How could a man think he had the right to take out his rage on another when he couldn't confess that he once loved this woman, adulteress or not? 'Did he truly love her?' was Clary's question. She found it hard to believe he did.

She put the book down. Her heart couldn't take the strain anymore. She couldn't read. She couldn't draw. All she could do was…be. Her mind was racing with thoughts, but she wished they'd shut up. All Clary wanted was to do and think nothing for five minutes of solitude. Instead, the past week she'd endured tortured her inside.

The whispers were almost intolerable. It was always Celine's squeaky voice she heard most. "What happened to her? Is she okay?" Clary's favorite was, "Does she need a mother's hug?"

After they got through the week, Clary's body nearly gave way. She avoided all contact with anyone. Jace found her on the roof, bundled up tightly on the couch. His head of blonde curls were blown back on his face from the winds of winter. It wasn't snowing, though it had been a blizzard for the first part of the week. Now, the snow had abandoned the city to deal with the mush by itself.

With her knees to her chest, Clary stared through Jace. He sat on the couch. The old seats shifted towards his weight, and Clary fell into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, but even he couldn't warm her.

"Isabelle keeps calling me." Jace said. Clary nodded. "Simon does, too. You know he's worried when he does that. Hell, even Max wants to know why you won't read with him." He was met with silence. "Dammit, Clary, tell me what's going on. You're scaring the shit out of me."

Clary finally turned to look at him. She could see the numerous ideas bouncing around in his eyes, none of which were any good. Her eyes felt heavy. "I'm sorry."

Jace frowned. He unraveled the blanket, sending a wave of cold over her. Then, he wrapped it around the two of them. His heat and hers combined was better than before. Clary tilted her head up to look at Jace. "Don't ever apologize for what's going on. If you feel like shit, you feel like shit. Just tell me."

 _Let me in._

Clary sighed. Her arms curled around him as she tucked her head into his shoulder. "I remind him of the fire. So he left me the second he could. It doesn't make any sense. I'm his only family. And he doesn't love me." Clary sighed, closing her eyes. "It just hurts, that's all. It's always on my mind."

"I'm sure he loves you," Jace said, but even she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Clary felt cold again. "Just because he's got shit going on doesn't give him a right to shut me out."

"Isn't that what you've been doing?" Jace noted cautiously. A sudden chill ran through her body. She gasped and pulled away, looking at Jace with big eyes. She pieced together what she'd done the past week and groaned. As much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. She'd shut everyone out, including Jace.

"Shit," she muttered. Jace chuckled. He ran a hand down her cheek, and suddenly she could feel his heat again.

"It's okay. I won't let you go," he promised.

"I'm just like him," Clary muttered with horror, her voice coming out dead and unbiased. She'd always been like him. She still was being like Jonathan. Instead of going to her family, she went to her new person. In her mind, it was the only logical thing to do, though. Jace had always been there for her. Clary had always been there for Jonathan. They weren't exactly alike, but the similarities alone were bone chilling.

"Talk to Isabelle. Don't push everyone away," Jace's arms pulled her back into his side. Clary felt the heat. It was such a relief from the constant coldness that accompanied loneliness. She realized in this moment that she wasn't alone anymore. Jace was always by her side, day and night. Even Simon and Isabelle were worried about it. She could no longer classify herself as a loner. It was a good step for her, one that she parted with joy…and, surprisingly, sadness. She didn't know why.

"Jace, do you remember what you told me before Jonathan and I talked?" Clary turned her body into his. Despite the warmth both bodies offered, goose bumps ran over her skin. She didn't know if it was purely the wind causing them or what she was about to bring up. Jace pushed hair away from her eyes to see her clearly. His golden ones were shining brightly, she noticed. He no longer looked murderous yet still all too delectable.

"It may have been a shitty way of professing my love for you, Fray, but I'd never forget it. It won't change, if that's what you're worried about." Jace said, eyes locking on to her emerald ones. She shuddered against his body, and the moonlight cast dark shadows across his face. It didn't hide the intense gaze that hit her directly in her heart. It didn't hide his love any more than it hid his beauty.

Clary blushed as she spoke. "We haven't known each other over a month, you know."

Jace smiled ruefully. "And yet you still slept with me."

Clary rolled her eyes and smiled secretively. She sat up, straddling his lap. He pulled the blanket around her shoulders, the wind howling around them. Her words were so soft they almost got lost in the numbing noise. "I used to think love was when you had sex. I proved it wrong. Then I thought it was providing shelter and food for each other. Many people proved that wrong. For a long time after Jon left me, I didn't know what love was." Clary's heart pounded. Could he hear it? Could he feel it? "Then you showed up. You didn't let me be alone. You _saw_ me." She shrugged with a smile that lit up her glimmering green eyes. "I think that's what love is."

Jace's eyes darkened. "I'm not anyone you want to love," he warned, and she could tell he wasn't just being modest. He honestly didn't want her to love him as strongly as she did. He gripped her waist so hard, and she knew that grip came from years of torture. She didn't want him to be alone, either. It was too late. There wasn't a way for her to stop loving him now.

"Too late, Wayland. I've fallen for you," Clary admitted, scared he'd be angry. Jace's eyes didn't soften. His frown grew deeper. "Sometimes, Jace, I know what I'm doing. You couldn't harm me if you tried. You're nothing but _good._ "

The right corner of his lip twitched upward. It was that little hint of peace that forced the dark thoughts of her brother out of Clary's mind. Clary offered him the same in return.

She brought her lips down to his slowly. It had been a week since they'd kissed. She remembered exactly where their last kiss led them. His hands cupped her face. It was no longer one hundred percent lust-driven. Their relationship had surpassed that phase.

Her hands twirled in his hair. Lips against lips, tasting each other's tongue, they could have stayed up there all night without a second thought. His hands eventually fell to her butt, lifting her body directly against his.

Then his lips were kissing her neck. Waves of electricity sparked at her throat and traveled all the way through her body. It was on fire, and she loved it. Her body was getting ahead of her, and a moan slipped past her lips. Jace smirked against her skin, squeezing her butt teasingly. He kissed her pale skin harder, nipping and suckling on the spot that sent her heart racing. Clary's nails dug into his strong biceps as she felt the waves of a thousand volts running through her.

He didn't stop. It was borderline pain and pleasure, the perfect mixture. "Jace," she panted breathily. He finally pulled away with a cocky chuckle.

"Something to remember me by," he murmured as he pressed a chaste peck to her neck. Looking up at her, Jace said the words intended just for the classes they spent apart. Jace didn't know just how much Clary would be holding on to the mark he'd made on her in the next week. Clary didn't know it would be a scarlet 'A' of her own.

Neither Jace nor Clary knew how it would both be her haven and her handcuffs.

* * *

 **A/N: Guys, I apologize. So much has been happening lately. But wait. It's actually good stuff this time! Upside: I have a boyfriend. Downside: he lives two hours away. Meh, love chooses you I guess. Ha, jk, not in love, but…why am I giving you guys my life story? You don't care. Anyways, that plus school is like a lot. I need to write more! I just haven't had an interest in writing anything, which is odd. But I promise I hate leaving stories hanging, even though I kinda did that on other short stories of mine…I definitely don't do that for long ones!**

 **So does anyone have a guess as to what that last line means? Most of you all guessed correctly. Also, I know some of you aren't liking Clary's depending nature. Very non-femenistic of her, but she is not done. Do not worry. She is in her darkest days and only had room for growth. Well, kinda.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

It never added up. Everything was fine that morning. She had to replay the entire day to figure out how the hell she ended up in the back seat of Big Bev's car again. For the first time ever, she didn't want to see Big Bev ever again.

It started out simple.

"I'm just so glad you two are getting sleep again!" Celine gushed as she flew around the kitchen wielding her spatula. Clary narrowly avoided the hot metal when she skirted to the table. Jace was there, smirking as Clary did her dance to reach the table safely. Max followed without a problem. Celine's hands were held far above his head, which was tucked away inside his newest comic book. Clary had gotten him this one from her few preciously remaining comics when he couldn't get to sleep for the third night in a row. She hadn't been able to glance at them since Jonathan had reappeared in her life again.

Last night after Jace and Clary came down from their rooftop make-out, they'd heard him crying. Clary pulled the puppy eyes. That was how they snuck him into their room, pulled the beds together, and all went to bed together. Clary had to admit. When Max wasn't talking a mile a minute, he was adorable. Isabelle said the investigation was almost over. Clary would be sad to see him leave.

"Yes, sleep, we love it," Jace winked. Butterflies swarmed Clary's stomach. Blushing, she filled her bowl with cereal and managed not to look at his twinkling eyes. The glint in them always made her remember just how much sleep they got last night.

They had tested the water last night, and Clary could definitely say trying to hold back a moan as Jace's tongue did unimaginable tricks to her body made it so much hotter. Neither Stephen nor Celine woke even once.

Stephen came barreling in next. He had the newspaper in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. With his eyes fixated on the paper, he sat at the table in an upright position of perfect posture. "Eggs and toast. And for the love of all that is holy, could you learn how to pick up a knife and spread the butter, Celine? Nobody likes a glob of butter in the center of their toast."

It was a pleasant morning as always.

"Clary, why are you just sitting there? Make yourself useful and cook for Jace or Max. Celine can't do all the work here."

Clary groaned into her next bite of cereal. "Celine, your eggs are wonderful," Jace placed his empty plate into the kitchen sink. Celine looked up from the stove with a cheery smile. Clary had one word to describe Celine. Sunshine. Even her name just reminded her of sunshine. No reason aside from her hair that glowed in it. Her personality matched with the hair, clothes, and smile just equaled annoyingly cheery sunshine.

"Thank you, Jace!"

"They could use less pepper," Stephen grumbled.

Celine's smile faltered. "My friends say the key to a fine egg is to learn from the Frying Queens themselves." She announced proudly, hands on her hips. Clary's moth dropped open. Celine whispered as if they didn't get the joke. "Black people. It's all butter with them, never can get enough."

Clary couldn't believe the words she was hearing. The horrid part was that she wasn't making a joke. She was honestly believing those stereotypes and building them up. Her fists clenched, and she was ready to swing. Jace could see it in her eyes and posture; he'd taught it after all. Grabbing her arm, he grumbled, "Thanks for the tip. Max, let's go."

Max looked up with that smile of his that could light up a cloudy day. He nodded, brushed his long hair out of his eyes, and ran after them. Clary forced herself to focus on his childhood innocence that was pure instead of Celine's childlike ignorance that was quite offensive.

But even that wasn't anything abnormal.

It only deviated when Jace and Clary arrived at school. Waiting outside was Isabelle. Though she always seemed pissed, today her eyes betrayed the real rage settling on her brow. Her leather jacket hugged her tightly as she crossed her arms. She was waiting for them specifically.

Clary sighed. "Hear her out and then punch her," Jace suggested. She glanced at him with a rueful smile and nodded. Together, they went up to Isabelle.

"So you're going to speak to me now?" Isabelle scoffed, blowing a bubble of gum in their faces. Clary didn't say anything. "Why were you even in my room? You said you didn't want to fuck him."

Jace said with utter seriousness, "Everybody wants to fuck me."

Clary rolled her eyes. "It just happened." Clary mirrored Isabelle's stand-offish stance. "So. How long have you been seeing my brother and keeping it a secret?"

Isabelle tapped her foot impatiently, like this conversation wasn't worth the waste of her time. "I didn't keep it a secret. It's not like I even knew your brother's name."

"But you knew my last name."

"He didn't tell me his!" Isabelle shouted, earning looks from students walking by. "He said he didn't deserve his last name so he's dropped it." Clary frowned. He hadn't done anything to 'disown' his last name. "And I was seeing him here and there before I even met you. We only got serious the night of the first party, the one when you and Jace got locked in a closet."

Thinking back to those times, everything was so simple. She'd been so alone, but at least she could have held out hope that Jonathan missed her, too. In a way, it was that night that changed everything, the night he'd ignored her letter.

Clary looked Isabelle carefully in her eyes. Her dark color pled honesty. Still, even if she was being honest, Clary didn't know if she could forgive her so quickly. She didn't do much wrong, but the idea of Isabelle and Jonathan together didn't settle well on Clary's stomach.

"Look, you already hate me. I can see it in your eyes," Isabelle groaned. "So just pile this on to the list of reasons to hate me." Clary frowned. Iz sighed and gestured to her left. A figure was walking to them with a hood over his head, but Clary recognized his body form immediately. There was no mistaking it. She'd grown up with him. Jonathan removed the hood with a heated glare plastered to his face.

"What is he doing here?" Clary began to step back, running into Jace's hard body. He wrapped an arm protectively around her waist, but he still held her in place.

Her breathing sped up. "He wants to talk to you." Isabelle said. Jonathan stopped before them. He looked disgusted by the way Jace was holding her. Clary wanted to tell him just how little right he had to be protective of her _now._

"Clary," Jonathan sighed.

"I don't want to do this," she squeezed tightly to Jace's forearm. He rubbed a soothing hand on her back, but it didn't do any good. Her heart was racing.

"Can we speak alone?" Jonathan asked, directing his gaze to Jace. Jace's gripped on her waist tightened.

"Not this time," Jace growled in a challenge. Clary was glad he stayed. She'd burst into tears without him. He gave her strength, somehow. She needed it.

Jonathan's frown only increased. "Then get your disgusting hands off my sister." His eyes were locked on Jace's hand resting low on Clary's hip. Clary hated him. He couldn't turn on and off his protective side. In a stretch of defiance, she unlatched Jace's hand from her waist, stood in front of Jace, and leaned back into him. His arms wrapped protectively across her chest to her abdomen, holding her tightly against him. Clary felt stronger this way. She also knew how much it pissed Jonathan off. Jon clenched his jaw.

"What do you want?" Clary hissed.

"Nice hicky."

"What. Do. You. Want."

Jonathan tore his gaze away from the purple bruise on her neck. "I want you to come live with me. Things aren't great between us now. I know that. But we can work it out. I miss you."

Clary's eyes narrowed. "I missed you, too, but not anymore."

Jonathan's shoulders sagged. "Please. Our parents would have wanted us to stay together."

Clary felt a fire burning in her heart. "That's exactly what I thought all those nights when I was alone, wondering if you were dead or alive, wondering why you left me, wondering where the hell you were." Jonathan opened his mouth to speak. Clary cut him off. "You can't choose when you want to be in my life."

Jonathan looked pain. _Good, he should be._ "You don't understand everything about the fire, Clary. If you knew, you'd understand why I left. I had to."

"You had to do nothing," Clary spat, eyes glowering with rage. "You always have an option, always."

"Clary-,"

"Leave it, Jonathan," Clary said in an eerily calm, detached voice. "Leave me alone. I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to hear from you. I gave you a second chance, and you slammed the door right in my face. You're dead to me."

Clary tugged on Jace's arm. He nodded and released Clary. She held tightly to his arm, and they walked toward the entrance of school. The bell had rung long ago. Nobody was around except the four of them. Jonathan stopped them, gripping Clary's arm tight enough to leave bruises.

"You're just a kid, Clarissa. You don't get to choose this!" Jonathan yelled after them.

"Watch me," she hissed.

Jonathan's eyes were blacker than black. A low burning was alight in his soul, slowly overtaking everything. His eyes landed harshly on Jace. "I hope you two know what you're doing. Somebody could _easily_ tear you to shreds."

Clary didn't know what he meant, but she didn't like his tone at all. She'd never seen him so mad before. He looked murderous, ready to tear out Jace's throat and steal Clary away. Jace's gaze matched his, though. Clary knew Jace could be just as dark, just as threatening. A fight between the two of them wouldn't end well.

She squirmed under her brother's tight grasp, her bones now feeling the effect of his hand. "Get your hands off _my girl_." Jace growled, knowing just how much those words would sting Jonathan.

Holding Jon's gaze until he finally let go of Clary's arm, Jace walked past him, hitting his shoulder hard. Clary followed, not looking back at Isabelle and Jonathan. They didn't stop until they were well into school. Clary didn't stop Jace when he pulled them up the stairs. His hands were shaking so hard she could feel it in the hand he clenched. He yanked open the closet they'd visited so many times from the beginning.

Jace let go of her hand when the door shut. He paced in the small area, clenching his hair. Clary glanced at her phone as it buzzed endlessly. Simon was calling. She ignored it, glancing nervously up at Jace. "Has he always been such a controlling prick?" he growled, finally stopped in front of Clary, pushing her back against the door. Clary gulped. She spied the text Simon sent her. She hadn't seen such a reaction in Jace. In one sense, it was alarming. In the other, it was relieving to see him with such emotion. He cared _that_ much, and about her. She remembered a time when his eyes had no light in them, his soul no emotion. He used to care about nothing, and now it was about her.

Clary shook her head, breathing out a shallow breath. "No. I don't know what's with him. I hate it." She glanced at her phone as it buzzed with a message.

 _Isabelle said you got in a fight with your brother. Are you okay? Where are you?_

She quickly responded before the phone fell out of her hands to the floor.

Jace closed his eyes. His hands ran down her cheeks delicately, and she looked back to him. His forehead rested against hers. "He can't talk to you like that. If he were anything but your brother…"

Clary's hands rested on either side of Jace's face, staring at him until his eyes opened. He was so angry. "Nobody would ever stand up to my brother like that for me."

Jace rested his hands on her waist, pulling her hips to his possessively. "You're my girl. I'd do anything for you, baby."

Clary's heart leapt out of its cage. There were those words again – the words that made her body hurt. Those words made her want to intertwine their bodies into one, but not even in the sexual way. The way his eyes glinted and lips curled as he gripped her body tightly made Clary shiver. She was _his_ girl. He'd protect her. Not that she needed protecting, but she enjoyed that somebody would be willing to risk his life – or at least beautiful face – in the event she needed protecting.

Clary couldn't find any words to match his. "Kiss me."

 _Let me repay you for your love._

Jace smiled softly. As his hands clutched on to her face, Clary dropped her own to his neck. Jace's lips pressed against hers so lightly it was like a feather tickling her skin. Her heart starting beating out of her chest. Then, he kissed her nice and slowly. It was a gentle kiss, one that showed he had absolute patience for whatever they did or didn't do. She moved her lips against his just as slowly. Her tongue licked lightly along his lip. It spurred Jace on. The kiss grew harder, faster. The passion mixed with the lust. Soon, their lips crashed against each other's with such power Clary could feel her skin bruising. Her nails dug into the skin on his back, pulling him as close to her as she could.

Jace's hands fell to her hips, and then under her shirt. Clary grew breathless and broke apart from the kiss. Jace inched her shirt up a little ways. She smirked and panted, "If you want it off, take it off."

Jace grinned and pressed his lips to hers once softly, lingering. Then, she felt his wet lips press to her jaw, followed by a soft, sneaky tongue. Clary squealed in delight. One hand pulled off her shirt and threw it behind them. The other hand moved to her butt, giving it a firm squeeze. She jumped and threw her legs around his waist. Her hands moved under his shirt as his lips pressed hot kisses down her neck. They didn't stop there on their journey.

"Jace," she whimpered, hands running up and down his abs. She moved one underneath his jeans, rubbing his member through his boxers. Jace let out a guttural growl.

His lips moved underneath her bra, kissing and nipping lightly. Sensations swirled all around Clary, but she knew what she wanted. She ground her ass into his hand. "Put me down."

He made a protesting sound, tongue licking across her chest. His other hand moved to her unoccupied boob. Clary snorted. "Trust me, you'll like this more."

Jace's forehead fell against her chest. "Clary, babe, there's not much more I'd like than your boobs. Maybe your ass…"

Clary's hand rubbed against his very hard dick again, and he groaned. "Don't test me, Wayland."

She gripped him just a little too tightly, and he immediately dropped her. Clary chuckled and stood on her tiptoes, kissing him lightly. Then, she dropped to her knees.

"Fuck," Jace hissed. Her dainty hands unzipped his jeans and pulled them to his knees. "You don't have to."

Clary yanked his boxers down, freeing his pulsing boner of its containment. Her eyes held his the entire time. "I want to."

Then her lips went to work.

. . .

Clary didn't remember locking the door, but she didn't remember not locking the door, either. It was the middle of class. She never expected anyone to try to enter here besides Isabelle, but she would never. She knew what happened between Clary and Jace in here. She also never expected anyone to come find her. But, she was wrong.

At first, she didn't hear the door open. Jace's eyes were closed, hands in her red curls. He didn't see anything either. But then she heard the whispered, unsure word.

"Clary?"

She knew that voice. Heart pounding suddenly, she pulled away and looked over her shoulder in shock. Simon Lewis was pressed against the door, shielding his eyes partially while also risking glances. "Simon! What are you doing here?" Clary gasped, standing up and blocking his view of Jace's naked lower half.

Simon dropped his hands. His eyes stared between Jace and Clary, unbelieving. The pain laced through them like silk, growing and growing until he seemed broken, very broken. "I – I was checking on you, tracking your phone. Clearly, you're fine…"

Her heart hurt. She reached out to him. "Si, it's not what you think."

"I don't think that line works here," Jace muttered. Clary felt sick. She clenched her fists.

"Please, hear me out," she tried to grab his wrist, but Simon yanked it away. He looked between the two of them with a green face.

"I'm going to be sick."

Simon's hand shook as it pushed open the door. Kids were bustling behind him in the hall as he fell into them. Clary began to go after him only to remember she was half naked herself. Swallowing thickly, she felt tears prick her eyes.

"Jace, I just broke his heart," Clary whispered, her hands clenching at her stomach. The urge to throw up kept growing. Jace pulled up his bottoms hurriedly, and Clary fell into his arms.

"We can talk to him."

Clary shook her head as tears fell down her face. "Not this time. He won't understand."

"He's your friend. He. Will." Jace commanded, as if saying them so feircly would make them true. Clary wished. She wished she could believe him like last time. But she knew her friend. He was different than Isabelle. Nothing would make him see it her way, not anytime soon enough to prevent his breaking heart. Clary meant to tell him eventually, when she had assumed he'd moved on. This was debatably the worst way for Simon to find out.

It made it so much worse that she'd lied to him a number of times before. She should have eased him into it. Maybe he would have understood. Lust was something every guy felt. Surely he could have empathized. They weren't real siblings! Clary didn't understand why it was so hard for everyone to grasp. They didn't look a thing alike.

She wouldn't ever forget his face. His eyes looked shattered. His soul – shattered. He used to look at her with such happiness and excitement. Now it was shock and disbelief. He didn't want to see it, to have to believe what had been going on right under his nose. Pain. Betrayal.

Worst of all, she had done to him what she had never wanted to do to anyone because she knew just how much it could destroy a person.

She abandoned him.

* * *

 **A/N: Okayyy now it gets juicy! Who saw this coming? Poor Simon! Heh, not really. I'm not a fan of Simon, if you can't tell, those of you who have read my other stories. I'm so into Jon and Izzy! Anyways…what are your thoughts? What do you think will happen next? There's just so many options, right?**

 **Okay, guys, I've been slacking. I only have two other chapters before I run out, which is not good! Sooo…I'll update in either a week or if I can get SIXTEEN REVIEWS on this one chapter. I'd really really love to hear that much feedback, guys!**

 **As so a question, I'm not sure if I'd do a chapter in Jace's point of view. I wanted to originally, and I always think switching perspectives is fun, but it's not necessarily the best way to complete a book/story. However, I definitely want to do it. So I'll either be writing one in his perspective right now, to I'll do it in the epilogue. Also, shout out to 'HighLadyofHerondale' if you are reading this story (she favorited my previous one). I really like your name!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

It was so quiet. As cliché as it sounded, it was _too_ quiet. Jace wasn't speaking out of fear of Clary's total and complete breakdown. Clary couldn't compose words to describe how she felt. Even going through an entire day of school, she couldn't begin to utter a word. Two fights within an hour drained anyone, but the amount of guilt she felt compiled on made her shoulders feel the weight of the sky. It didn't help that she had to avoid Simon and Isabelle at lunch, though it wasn't too hard. The moment she entered the room, Simon's face contorted to disgust and he stormed off. In his haste, he entered the administrative office instead of the halls. Isabelle was the opposite. Her large eyes begged Clary to come to her, as if she had important news. Instead, Clary found Jace and they sat together, ignoring the buzzing of Clary's phone for the rest of the day.

With a heavy sigh, Clary pushed open the door to the apartment. She braced herself for the onslaught of questions, followed by the pursuit to get her to shove food into her mouth. The quiet surrounding the apartment, however, concerned Clary. When she peered into the kitchen, she nearly dropped her bag. Celine hadn't touched the room since breakfast. Milk was sitting out on the counter, rotting away.

Stephan would be furious with her.

Jace grunted in disproval. He motioned toward direction of the one tiny sound. Max's voice was uncertain as he spoke. They ventured into the living room.

Stephan and Celine sat on the couch, staring intently at Max as he retold a story to two men dressed in suits. It wasn't Stephan's appearance at home so early that made Clary's stomach churn, nor was it the two large men in dark sunglasses. It was Big Bev's concerned and disbelieving frown that made Clary realize something was very wrong here.

Big Bev noticed her first. She shot up from her seat in the corner and cleared her throat. Her eyes, and quickly everyone else's, bore into Clary and Jace with such intense questioning it made Clary blush.

"What's going on?" Jace said, inching a step away from Clary. She didn't know why, but she soon found out.

"Jace Wayland?" One of the nearly identical men said. Jace nodded curtly. "I'm Agent Jeremiah and this is my partner, Agent Zachariah. We'd like to ask you and Clary Fray a few questions."

Cops.

Clary frowned. "How did you know my name? Why are you here?" She directed at Big Bev out of familiarity. Big Bev grew a disapproving frown. She looked at her feet. Clary growled. "Celine, Stephen, what's going on?"

Stephen jumped to his feet. "What's going on? I think it's a little late to ask that, isn't it?"

Clary jumped back. She glanced at the cops, suddenly more willing to talk to them. Agent Jeremiah shot out a hand to stop Stephen from moving forward. "Please, this matter is between Clary, Jace, and Clary's social worker. Thank you for answering our questions young man."

Max smiled nervously at him and jumped to his feet. "I'll be in my room!"

Jeremiah smiled tightly, not at all happy or pleased. When Max disappeared, he took a breath. Before he could speak, Celine let out a little whimper. Clary looked at her, scorning the wet tears falling down her cheeks. "How could you two? I trusted you!"

Her shaking finger was pointing at Jace and Clary. Stephen gathered her into his arms, shushing her. "…not without a lawyer…"

Jeremiah tried again with less patience. "I don't believe they can take full blame for this, Mrs. Herondale. Max once again referred to 'his room.' Would you care to explain why he has one room to himself and the two opposite-sex teenagers share one?"

Suddenly, Clary knew exactly what this was about. Her eyes grew wide and she looked desperately at Jace. His jaw was clenched. She hissed, "Simon did this."

He didn't say anything, only stared at her like she was already gone. Clary bit her lip and looked back at Jeremiah. Celine whimpered. "M-Max kept Jace up at night. Clary offered-,"

"She offered? Are you that stupid to believe she offered out of the kindness of her black fucking heart!?" Stephen roared, nearly throwing Celine out of his arms. Stephen's gaze fixated on Clary. She paled but refused to move.

Jeremiah let out an exhausted huff of air. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, and his piercing black eyes sent Clary's heart racing. She held back a gasp at his chilling, nearly emotionless eyes. Zachariah pulled out a recorder and pressed the red button. She gulped.

"We've been informed of some unsettling news…some possibly illegal news. Would you like to guess what it is?" Jeremiah grunted, directing his gaze to the two frozen teenagers.

Clary bit her lip. She forced a frown on her face. "What are you implying?"

He gestured to the open couch. Clary kept her eyes locked on his as she sat. Jace took place on the chair Jeremiah had vacated. Clary felt a sad smile grow on her lips knowing Jace was trying to sell their innocent look, but Clary knew. It was already over.

"Did you and this man sleep together?"

Clary leaned back in her chair. "Of course not. We know the rules."

"And we're supposed to believe you got the hickey on your neck from a normal jock at school, are we?" Stephan snarled. Clary's hand flew to hide her neck, but everyone had seen it. She pulled the scarf she was wearing to cover it better. It was too late. She didn't say anything to neither confirm nor deny it.

"Does it even matter what we say at this point?" She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It matters because he is three days away from being eighteen."

Ah yes, Clary's next battle with the infamous number three.

Her heart dropped a beat. Jace looked at her, just looked at her. Suddenly, it became harder to breathe. Her throat hurt and a stabbing pain manifested behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold composure. Jace glanced at his hands, resting his elbows on his knees and cleared his throat.

He wasn't planning on telling her. He wasn't planning on telling her that within three days, he'd be gone. His bags would be packed and out the door. He'd be off to buy his own apartment. He'd be selling his manor. He'd be rich once again. And she'd be stuck with a loon and a misogynist.

"Jace…" Clary whispered, voice cracking with pain.

Jace growled, "We did nothing illegal."

"But you did sleep together." Jeremiah challenged.

Jace didn't answer. Clary watched him give the cop the glare of death. Her rage boiled inside. He was just going to leave her. He was going romance her and leave her without a trace. Nobody would know. Nobody would ever find him because nobody knew, and now it caught him up.

"Yes!" Clary shouted. "We slept together. Are we done now?"

"Not quite," Zachariah grunted in a deep, rumbling voice. Clary's head snapped to his, and even he couldn't force fear into her mouth. Her glowing green eyes made even him loosen his posture.

"Was it consensual?"

Clary's eyes shot to Jace with rage. "Sadly, it was."

"In this particular case, we are leaving it up to your social worker. If you or she decides to try him as an adult, we'll create a report. If not, we'll leave it to the social worker."

The idea of creating something huge out of it sounded tempting. Clary could only imagine what a night in jail would be like. Of course, Jace had already seen the inside of a cell before. It wouldn't be new to him, but it would definitely bring back memories. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to regret every word and every action he took with her. But she didn't want him to force unwarranted guilt onto himself, reliving the memories of his first death and his first murder.

Clary looked at Big Bev. Sympathy flashed across her eyes for a split second. Clary shoved herself to her feet and spoke with her social worker in the corner, taking as much privacy as she could. Big Bev, surprisingly, spoke first. "Are you okay?"

Her hand ran down her hair. Clary felt tears prick at her eyes again and she had to look away. "It's nothing new. I'm ready for a new home anyway," she shrugged. Big Bev saw right through her sarcasm, but she was kind enough not to point it out. She nodded and glanced at Jace.

"Think hard, Clary. You're a smart girl. Did he, in any way, try to persuade you to do things with you that you didn't want to do?" She searched Clary's eyes. A warm tear slipped down Clary's cheek. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window.

Clary's head fell against the glass tiredly. Her body felt colder than the window. All of its warmth blew away into a freezing blizzard. "You know me, Bev. I don't do what I'm told, ever. Clary does what Clary wants to do."

Big Bev let out a sigh. "And what does Clary want to do now?"

Her voice broke. "I just want to go home."

She took a deep breath of air and let it out slowly, unsure how to proceed with that. There was no home for her. Clary closed her eyes, motioned to the living room, and continued to stare at the street below. Bev nodded and spoke in a hushed tone to the cops. A sinking feeling of dread settled on Clary's heart.

It was nothing new to realize she'd be moving to a new living environment. It was nothing new to imagine how she'd fit her clothes into one bag. It wasn't anything new to wonder where she'd end up this time, what the story would be.

But this time, she didn't want to leave. Despite Stephan's crude comments, Celine's ignorance, and Max's loud wake up calls, she'd grown to enjoy this environment. With every con, she could think of a memory where Jace created a pro to it. His strong arms wrapping her in warmth. His complimenting words. His soft lips. His snide comments that took her mind off harsher things, harsher times.

His lies.

Jace was speaking animatedly with Bev. He constantly gestured to Clary. In each passing moment, he lost it more and more. He ran his hands through his hair constantly, and his eyes were glowing under the glistening tears he never shed.

"Please, let me speak to her for five minutes."

"You realize we can't foster any more kids after this, right?" Stephan growled. "It was Celine's way of giving back to the world, and you've ruined it."

"Five minutes."

"My job! You've ruined me. My clients are dropping as we speak!"

"Please."

"Pack your bags and get out of my apartment before I call those men back to file you under trespassing." Stephan's icy voice directed itself at Clary. "Hey, little whore, do you think you can stop crying long enough to grab your shit?"

Clary had her back turned to them. One second, he called her a whore. The next, she heard a loud smack of skin on skin. She spun around to find Jace shoving Stephan to the ground. " _What_ did you just call her?" He punched him in the jaw again. Clary flinched. She'd seen his fists go to work before, using all the things he taught her. He punched him again, and Stephan's spat out a response.

"She's your little whore, no good for anything but sex. I'm right, right? She was the best you ever had, but that's all she'll ever be!" Stephan yelled. Jace punched him in the mouth so hard his lip burst.

Jace's eyes were glowering with rage. Clary balled her fists. She didn't know why he was doing that. She'd been called worse before at school in front of Jace. He and her brushed it off because they didn't care about a bunch of idiots' opinions, and Stephan certainly was the biggest idiot she'd met. But with every punch, a little bit of Jace's rage seeped out of his hands, but it didn't dissipate. It grew. It built and grew right before her eyes, and she had to stop him.

Clary came up behind Jace and put him in a chokehold, locking her legs around his arms to ensure he couldn't move. Jace resisted for five seconds before realizing what he'd done.

Celine's sobs were the only sound for a long, awful minute. Stephan groaned on the floor. "Get. Out."

Big Bev cleared her throat. "You two both need to come with me. We'll get things sorted elsewhere."

Clary released Jace. She jumped to her feet before he got a chance to say a word. He and Bev followed her into their room, and she watched as the two kids swiftly packed their things while Stephan yelled profanities from the kitchen where Celine hurriedly made ice packs for his swollen face.

Jace didn't try to speak at this point. He knew it was futile. Clary had no energy left in her to say anything either. There was no point in trying, either. She wasn't going to be seeing him again.

"You did say he'd get what was coming for him," Clary muttered as she zipped up her bag. Jace let out a tired snort. Bev cleared her throat, and he slung his bag over her shoulder. As he neared Clary, she stood still, frozen. Her breath escaped her, and the he was centimeters from her.

He grabbed her bag as well and left. They were all almost out the door when Celine's high-pitched voice called out. Her tiny hands grabbed onto Clary's wrist.

Clary looked at her expectantly. "I wish you hadn't lied," Celine began unsurely. She wrung her hands as she spoke. "I will miss you two so much. You were both my light here in this apartment, my golden and green light."

Clary offered her a grim smile. "I am sorry," Clary honestly said. Surprising herself, she pulled Celine in for a hug. Celine didn't know how to react for a moment, and then she squeezed Clary back. It wasn't a good hug like a hug from Jace or her father or brother, but it was a soft, forgiving hug, one sure didn't know she needed. "Tell Max-,"

"Wait!" Max came running down the hall, a comic book flapping in his haste. Clary's throat tightened again and the thought of crying sounded like such a good idea. Max stopped in front of Clary, breathless. "I want – I want you to have," he said between breaths, "this." It was his favorite comic book from his collection. Clary's mouth opened in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

Max nodded eagerly. "You and Jace will have something to read together that reminds you of me just like I have for the two of you."

Clary's heart sank. "Oh, we aren't -,"

"It's perfect, kid," Jace interrupted. He stepped in front of Clary wearily and bent to Max's height. Jace handed him a piece of paper and whispered something in his ear that made him grin. Then Max hugged them both and ran back to his room.

Celine closed the door with one last goodbye. Clary couldn't speak without the fear of bursting into tears until they were at the bottom of the building. "What about Max?"

Bev sighed. "His parent's investigations are being rushed and finished today. Most likely, he'll be going back to one of them."

Clary sat up front and Jace in the back for 'separation.' Nobody spoke the entire ride to the headquarters. Clary could see the need for conversation lingering all around them in the musky air that vaguely smelled like cigarettes smoked long ago yet never truly having left the car. She needed to speak to Jace, but she couldn't. She couldn't acknowledge the fact that he was going to leave her, just like everyone else. Even if he somehow wasn't, he was now. And that alone sent a stabbing pain pulsating in her heart that she knew she couldn't bear. It got worse and worse the more she thought about her dull un-glorified future without him – without the very last remains of any hopes of having a home.

Big Bev didn't have to speak to her to communicate her thoughts, though. Clary could read her only like a child could read his mother's silent threats in public at dinner. Big Bev normally gave her a short, crisp speech on how she should have behaved better at the foster house. She'd explain what she did wrong, ask why she did it, and sigh at Clary's answer. Here, neither of them spoke. Clary didn't even make a sarcastic comment. Bev didn't have a single reprimand or question. She knew. She understood this wasn't one of Clary's pranks to get moved into a different home. Bev could see it in Clary's eyes as they lingered on Jace, on their bedroom. Bev could see how much Clary aged in their time spent apart, roughly two months.

"My brother says hi." Clary grumbled. Bev sighed loudly.

"You weren't supposed to speak to him."

There was a warning in her tone, like she knew something bad. Clary whipped her head in her direction, looking over every inch of her body. Bev knew she slipped up, staring like a deer in the headlights out the window.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Bev didn't say a word.

Clary clamped a hand on her arm. "Spill. Now."

Big Bev glanced at her. "He isn't supposed to come into contact with you until everything's cleared up."

" _What's_ cleared up?"

"The investigation."

"Of?"

"Of the death of your parents."

. . .

Clary had been expecting to get to say goodbye to Jace. Big Bev spoke as they walked towards the large entrance doors. These doors had become so familiar to Clary. A sinking feeling stirred in her gut, like something was about to go horribly wrong. She didn't see how it could get any worse. "Clary, follow me. Jace, your social worker is waiting for you inside."

She pushed the doors opened and they were _swarmed._ In that fleeting moment, Clary turned her eyes to Jace. He was looking at her like she was dangling over the edge of a cliff, reaching out for him, and he'd never make it to her. For that second, she forgot about how he was planning on leaving her. All she could focus on was that in that second he was leaving her. And that was the last thing she wanted.

"Jace!" Clary cried out. Two men were pulling Jace away from her. He looked back at her with those caged eyes, like he was desperate to escape. He elbowed one of the men holding him and slipped out of their grasps. Clary ran into his arms. "Jace, don't leave me."

His arms held her so tightly she could almost imagine they were alone – that nothing would bother them. He'd protect her, always. Jace's energy flowed through Clary, giving her a rush of memories from their begging to end. Would this be their end? She prayed it wasn't. Something like this was not findable twice in life. She'd never get so lucky. She didn't deserve it once let alone twice. And she didn't want it twice. She just wanted Jace.

"I'll find you, baby. I won't ever leave you. I promise."

"Don't promise-,"

"I. Promise." Jace swore to her. Arms were tearing at their bodies, desperate to keep them apart. Clary looked into his eyes. Tears were streaming down her face. She jerked her head in a nod. Jace's eyes were misty as well. He captured her lips in a kiss, and Clary swore it almost knocked her off her feet.

"I love you," she whispered, and then they couldn't hold on any longer. Jace was thrust to the ground face first. He kept searching for Clary, though, and her flowing red curls. But Bev pulled Clary through a door, sealing off the last image of her love of him fighting for her.

Her heart collapsed in on itself. "I'm sorry, but it's-,"

"Protocol." Clary sniffed. She fell back on a chair by Bev's desk, staring at her feet. "Well then. Where's my next hellhole?"

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter was sad but one of my favorites to write. Does that make me slightly sadistic?**

 **I love all of your wonderful reviews! You have no idea how happy each and every one makes me feel. Since I'm still behind on my writing, I can only stand to update in a week. Unless you lovelies would like to leave me an awesome present of 15 reviews? Can we celebrate on getting 150 reviews, also?**

 **I''m glad so many are upset over my disliking of Simon. I wish I liked him! He just kind of annoys me/gets in the way of Clace. How did this chapter make you feel? Shitty?Same. And wtf was Jace thinking?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. The plot is mine, tho.**

 **A/N: Aye America, looks like we got a new prez. Thoughts? Jk I hate politics lol. Just thought I had to make some sort of notice about it. Now to the important** **stuff.**

* * *

Things moved in a blur. Weeks passed by Clary's face with a smirk, laughing and snickering at her. She went to a new family. They spit her out within a week.

"She won't…move!"

"We signed up for a daughter – not a statue."

Clary saw no point in trying anymore. Her friend abandoned her. Jonathan was under investigation for the fire that killed her parents. Isabelle slept with the acclaimed killer.

And her light has disappeared into a deep abyss.

Clary watched people move around her, waving food in her face and screaming. Music blared in her ears, but if you asked her what she was listening to she wouldn't have an answer. Like she said, it all blurred together. Her heart hurt every second, pounding so hard she thought she was having a heart attack. She just couldn't find a happy thought – something to look forward to. It was all dark and cold and nothing.

She assumed that was the worst feeling, accompanied with loneliness, of course. She longed for Jace's touch or even delicate words, but most of the time, she didn't even get to feel that much. Most of the time, she felt nothing. It was the type of feeling that was so frustrating and unsolicited it made her nearly pull her hair out. There was nothing. No reason to breathe or eat or move. She couldn't sleep. God, if she could sleep, maybe it wouldn't be so horrid. But every time she closed her eyes, she was reminded of all the pain. Her eyes wouldn't shut out of fear.

The worst thing was that there was no end to this bleakness. Most people could wait it out, but Clary didn't know if she'd ever stop reliving her nightmares. She actually had more faith that she would never see Jace again in her life. And even if she saw him again, she worried. She worried the hole he created when he was ripped out of her life and soul would be too big for him to heal.

"Eat."

Clary lifted her gaze from her feet to the scratchy, demanding voice above her. At her feet was a tray of some sort of potato and green bean mixture. Clary's stomach protested. She shook her head and turned her eyes to the window. It was warming up now, but only slightly. The harsh winter storms had passed before her eyes. The New Year had visited, she assumed. She watched with sickness as couples celebrated the day of love. They all rubbed it in her face, knowing exactly what they did.

"Are you deaf? Eat."

Clary closed her eyes and sighed in despair. She just wanted to be alone. But then the woman's hand was in her face, and the other was shaking Clary vehemently. "Listen here, little slut. I know your story. I don't give a fuck what you do as long as you don't die here."

She was waving a spoon under her nose. Clary didn't even know this woman's name, but the fury she felt was strong enough. She was pent up with agony. It tore her from the inside, and now this woman had the guts to poke fun at her for it. She didn't think Clary to be more than the poor little messed up child whose only hope would be waitressing or prostitution for life.

She made another pass in front of Clary's mouth. Clary didn't know when she decided to, but in the next second, she was tasting blood. The woman was screaming. The food was falling to the floor. Clary was grinning. She was feeling a growing darkness of glee as the woman screaming and howled in pain. A smug snicker escaped her lips, and her eyes sparked to life momentarily. She felt something.

. . .

He cleared his throat. The man had cat-like eyes. A few months back, Clary would have grabbed her sketchpad. Her hands would have flown over the page in her haste to draw his eyes and capture their magic hue. But now all she felt was a strong disliking of this man. He had a glinting smile that reminded her of the smirk Jace commonly wore. This man was different, though. He made her feel vulnerable. She hated it.

"Clary, it's very nice to see you again. I'm Dr. Bane, but please, call me Magnus." Silence. Clary pulled her knees up to her chest. He wore a strict business suit. Only upon further inspection would anyone notice the sparkling trim on his jacket and tie.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Clary shrugged tiredly.

"We met the day after the fire." Clary remembered everything about the fire. She hated running through the memories, but she was fairly certain she'd never met this man before. "You didn't talk much then either. Your brother did most of the talking. Would you like a turn to tell me your side of the fire."

Clary glanced at her clothes. She was wearing all white pants and an all-white shirt. Deemed a temporary endangerment to her own life, the shirt was able to have the sleeves pined behind her body. Magnus was kind enough to unpin the shirt to trick her into trusting him.

"I'm not with the police. Whatever you say is strictly between the two of us."

Clary didn't have the energy or urge to say anything. Magnus started scribbling on his notepad. Clary's eyes flickered to his fleeting hand, surprised he had anything to write.

"Even when you don't speak, you give crucial details away, Clarissa." Magnus noted with an epitome of highly powers. He explained himself. "You hold yourself together because you're being torn apart inside. The fire left you barren, but then something gave you a spark of life. Jace Wayland, I'm assuming, considering you're a teenage girl with a longing for love. But we've stripped his presence from you, and now it's like the fire was nothing compared to what's going on inside your head right now." He blinked and set his notepad down. "Tell me, am I wrong?"

Clary had trouble moving her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she spoke.

Closing her eyes to keep from crying, she nodded sharply. "Yes, I didn't think I was." He sighed and leaned forward. "Do you know why you're here?"

She nodded. He continued anyways

"You're here because you bit your foster-mother. She had to get stitches, Clary. You're lucky your lawyer played the crazy card or you'd be in prison."

His words stung across her cheeks and forced the words out of her mouth. "You don't think I'm crazy?" Her voice cracked mid-sentence.

Magnus grinned slightly. "So the elusive one speaks." He sat back on the couch and crossed his arms, analyzing her. She'd been aware he'd been observing her in her cell over the past couple of days. He watched her work with the former therapist futilely. It ended when the therapist asked about her relationship with Jace. Clary knew she was trying to pin a charge on him. She boded at her, asking her very detailed aspects of their sexual relationship. Clary couldn't take it. She saw red and was on top of the woman in seconds. After that, they figured a male would create better bounds for them to speak on.

"No. In my professional opinion, I think you're a depressed girl trying to survive in the aftermath of all this chaos." Magnus said. Clary narrowed her eyes, waiting for the 'but.'

Nobody ever thought that. Most people, upon seeing her dark clothes and bold ear piercings, assumed Clary was a junky waiting for death to take her and anyone else she deemed fit. "I looked up your records. You have multiple claims of inappropriate behavior from your foster fathers. Now, few of these were taken seriously, but a girl like yourself doesn't just make up these things. I'd love to hear more about it."

Clary growled, "Why? You can't do shit about it."

Magnus nodded. "You're right."

He sat, waiting, as if that had still left a reason to discuss the topic. Clary waited for him to jump to a new topic. She kept waiting, but so do he. In the end, she decided this was a safer topic than the fire or Jace.

"The first one was the worst. He'd come in a just…watch me sleep. It took me a while to notice, but after I did, I couldn't sleep. Jonathan finally noticed and said something. They believed us…that time." Magnus didn't stop to ask her more about Jonathan so she continued.

"The next one liked to touch me a lot. Nowhere bad, but…it was weird. It was like he needed to feel me underneath his hand. I could see his mind imagining -," Clary stopped herself. She looked at the table and grabbed the water, taking small sips before she spoke again. "They didn't believe me, though. They said I was just looking to get out of the home since it worked in the previous house. It didn't help that Jonathan was somewhere else."

Magnus scribbled something down in his notes. "You and Jonathan tried to stay together?"

Clary snorted. "Yep. We always did."

Until he left me.

Magnus nodded. "Tell me about Stephan. How was he?"

Clary blushed. For the longest time, she thought he had been like the other creeps. His comments, though rude, never were what she imagined them to be. Shaking her head, she took another sip of the water. "He was normal. He was an ass, but he didn't do anything."

"What made him an ass?"

Clary looked at him with mock surprise. "I thought therapists aren't supposed to cuss." Magnus shrugged and gestured for her to continue. She rolled her eyes. "He was the usual sexist misogynist."

Magnus nodded. "Did you know he was fired for permitting two minors to fornicate under his household?"

Clary swallowed deeply. It didn't sound unreasonable. Her shoulders sagged more and she coughed. "Jace was right," she muttered sullenly.

"Right about what?"

She looked up with burning eyes. "He said not to let Stephan bother me – that he'd get what was coming for him. All of his caretakers always did." Magnus seemed very unsettled by that news. "Where is Jace now? Do you know?"

He wore a pained expression. "I really shouldn't tell you…but he's at his manor – selling it."

Clary bit her lip and looked away from Magnus. Jace didn't lie. He was doing exactly what he always said he would. Clary should have seen this coming. When he spoke of his future, he never mentioned her name. She never thought twice about it. She'd always assumed she'd be factored in when the time came. And she knew, too, that he was older than he. She just didn't know it was nearly by a full year. She didn't realize she'd be losing him so soon. Didn't Jace ever stop to ponder that? He knew. He knew he'd be leaving her soon. But there he was, doing his business without a care in the world. And there she was, locked up in a mental facility.

Did he know? Did he knew what she did? Did Jace ask where she was? Or did he forget all about the girl on the roof? Did he forget about the girl he claimed to love?

"I think we're done here," her voice sent a chill throughout the room. Goose bumps appeared on her skin, and she tucked her legs further underneath her chin, looking away as Magnus left.

. . .

The weeks went by quickly. Magnus' visits came and went. She found herself looking forward to them. He offered new conversation. It was different from her everyday wall-staring. Clary nibbled at her food from time to time, mainly so she'd have enough energy for Magnus to have a decent conversation with her.

One day, he noticed.

"How did you escape the fire, Clary?" Magnus asked again. Clary shrugged. He already knew this from the police report. Jonathan got her out. He came to her even before the smoke alarm went off. They'd tried to find their mom and dad, but then his shirt caught on fire. After he tore it off, he said their parents would find a way out. He said they had to get out now before Clary's hair caught on fire. She gasped like it would have been the end of the world and started running out the door with him.

"Come on, Magnus. I've been waiting on my prognosis for weeks now. Am I psychotic or not?" Clary tilted her head as she examined him. Magnus leaned back in his chair and frowned. It took him a while to figure out what he'd say. Ever so casually, he motioned to the food.

"I know what you really want, Clarissa," he said, and a chill ran through her body at the use of her full name. "You want to know about Jace. You want any information I can give you."

"I thought I was depressed. I thought I didn't care about anything or anyone." Clary droned into him. Magnus smirked slyly. He motioned to the seat beside him.

"Eat that piece of bread and sit beside me. Maybe I'll explain exactly how I know this about you."

Her body fought against her curious mind, but her body also wanted that food. She'd grown painfully thin, but at this point the pain was numb. She sometimes enjoyed the little growl of hunger in her stomach. But Magnus offered her a way to possibly feel more – to feel an emotion once again.

All of her time spent alone in her cell she spent remembering the times she and Jace spent together. She remembered the time they took a stroll through the park and climbed a tree. She remembered the surprising safety she felt when he grabbed on to her arms and dangled her over the edge of the limb they clung to. Her had been laughing and calling out futile threats to drop her if she didn't promise him a kiss, but Clary didn't have a worry in the world that day. She was flying with Jace as her wings that would never fail. He wouldn't have dropped her any more than he would have broken up with her.

But over a couple months of analyzing every memory, the memories tend to lose their spark. It grew harder and harder for Clary to feel the butterflies Jace used to give her every day. Dreaming of his lips no longer sent her in a heated fury. The memories lost their zing, and she needed more. She needed anything.

Clary picked up the bread and sat carefully beside Magnus. As she chewed, she rested her head on his shoulder. Magnus smiled warmly. He leaned in as if to kiss her forehead, but he hovered just above. "Don't move. Keep eating. Do not speak a word about what I'm going to say."

Clary swallowed her mouthful of bread quickly. He pulse, for once in so long, began to race and she coughed quietly, letting him know she understood. Magnus pulled away but kept close enough to mumble. She assumed he was speaking too softly for the cameras and audio recorders to pick up.

"Jace knows me, Clarissa. He's sent you a letter. Read it and flush it down the toilet before the next meal." Magnus' hand shifted beside her. Without realizing what she was doing, she took the thick folded piece of paper. "You need to get better before your birthday. If you attack someone at seventeen, they will want to try you as an adult. We have three more sessions. I must decide how to diagnose you. If you are deemed mentally unstable, tried as an adult and found guilty, there's no telling how long you'll be in here. It's up to you."

Magnus stood. He looked at Clary with a soft smile, but only she would be able to pick up on the twinkle in his eye. "That was a good session, Clary. Let's keep up that progress." His eyes were focused on the food, and Clary blushed. Then, he left.

And Clary could hardly breathe.

. . .

 _I know you hate me, Red, but even if you won't have me again, you don't deserve to be locked in a mental facility. If anything, it's my fault. I was scared, Red. When you get out, come find me. I'll explain. Isabelle, Simon, and even Alec are worried about you. Jonathan showed up a month ago, begging me to pay your way out. If I could, I would pay the world to get you free. Listen to MB. Eat – I know you aren't. I know you hate Jonathan as much as you love him, and I hope it is some consolation to know that his side of things explains a lot._

 _Forever yours,_

 _Jace._

The letter had smeared by the time she finished reading it. Clary didn't realize she was crying until the second time through. Sobs ripped through her body with such force, she fell to her knees. The sensation that accompanied such grief – such feeling – was earth-shattering to her frail frame. Clary pressed her lips against the letter and just cried.

She cried for Jace. She cried for her parents. She cried for Jonathan. Mostly, she cried for herself. She cried for the fact that she was in such a low place, such an unstable place. She didn't belong here. She didn't belong on her knees crying over boys. She belonged out in the world doing something her parents never got the chance to do. She should be painting until her hands cramped. She should be seeing the world. She should be creating a family, watching her kids grow up and start one of their own. She should be enjoying life. She should be laughing every day, ten times. She should be smiling and socializing and jumping and dancing and eating and sleeping.

She shouldn't be here.

Clary wiped at her eyes. She crawled to the toilet and flushed the letter down the drain no matter how much every bone in her body was itching for her to keep tucked close to her heart and cherish it every moment. She was done depending on Jace. She was done focusing on her brother's past actions. She had to let go. She was her own person. She needed to take her life into her own hands.

She knew what Jace would offer when she got out. He'd offer for her to stay with him, to have a job at his gym. Clary was still mixed up on how to handle Jace. The majority of her was ready to forgive him. After all, she knew his birthday was within two months. But there was a part of her that was angry with him – but not for that. She was angry he had woven his way so tightly into her heart. She was angry she spent months thinking all about him. She was angry she depended on him. Her past was her past. It was time she faced it on her own.

So even if she could love Jace again, she wouldn't stay with him – not yet, at least. She would get a job as a waitress or some social task. She'd have friends. She'd create a life separate of Jace and her past. And when she was ready, she'd mix the two lives. But until then, Jace would have to wait.

Her old friends were a whole other problem. The mention of Simon's name sent a wave of hot, unsettling heat. She never knew she held so much contempt for her friend from so long ago. She would have always remembered the way his eyes broke when he saw her with Jace. Those eyes were unforgettable. So why did he have to add more pain to her plate? He wasn't dumb enough to imagine that breaking Jace and her apart would send Clary into his open arms. Did he truly want revenge on her that badly? Why would her friend want her to suffer so much pain intentionally? She didn't wish it on him, not even now.

* * *

 **A/N:** **You little shits. I didn't expect you guys to actually get 15 reviews…but THANKYOU! Bad news: I have no more prewritten chapters. Good news: I have the writing fever again! I love your ideas and your compliments and just overall thoughts. Gimmegimmemore. Here's the deal, I'll update for sure in one week. However, I'm sort of finishing up a short story I wrote for fun (yes, it's CLACE be on the lookout). So if you guys reach 16 reviews by tomorrow afternoon, I'll put that on hold until I can pump out a good chapter and post it the moment it's done. I hate relying on the number of reviews and using them like money, but…I love all the feedback I can get, ya know? So! 16 reviews by tomorrow night! We can so do that!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the plot.**

 **TWO HUNDRED TWO REVIEWS! THANKYOUSOMUCH! It's actually been a while since I've gotten 200 reviews on a story, so yay! Hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

 ** _Jace_**

His fist knocked on the door, not with anger, but not with ease either. Jace looked down the hall in the opposite direction. There stood the door of his most previous housing. Nobody lived in it now. Stephen lost his job, and since Celine had to take on more clients and was never home, they moved into a smaller apartment. Jace knew because Celine had written to him, begging him to bring Clary and visit.

He threw the letter down the moment his eyes landed on that line. Clary wasn't in his grasp. He wasn't in her good graces, let alone in her presence.

The door swung open – the one he'd knocked on. Jace whipped around and scrutinized the company. Jonathan was an unpleasant sight. At first sight, he made Jace's hair stand to attention and his protective, animalistic instincts jump to alert. Despite what he'd written to Clary, he was no longer a fan of her brother, not after he'd spoken to Simon. But who was he to sever the remaining strings of love Clary had for her brother?

"How's the snitch doing today? Speak to your sister? Oh, right, she hates you. Forgot," Jace walked into his shoulder as he pushed his way into the apartment. He hated how nice it was. Celine had explained their neighbors bought part of their apartment, but he never realized how much they gained. He also never realized just how rich the Lightwoods were.

"Jace," Alec announced. "Here to see Magnus?"

Jace nodded. Magnus walked out from Alec's room wearing nothing but a shirt, socks, and glitter, of course. He smiled passively at Jace. "Ah, yes, my star-crossed lover. How are you today?"

Jace sneered at him. He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "I need you to give this to Clary. They released it from evidence today."

Magnus sighed dramatically and fell into Alec like he was exhausted. Alec blushed at the open contact. "We made a deal, Romeo. One letter and no more." Magnus paused. "She's doing better."

Jace's throat closed up. Better wasn't good enough. He took a massive part in tearing the girl limb from limb. He'd be damned if he'd just leave her like this. "She had four days, Magnus. This isn't from me. It's from her mother. You know how much she'd value this."

Jonathan walked into the kitchen and bit into an apple as he spoke. "How'd you get that anyways?"

Jace's lips lifted in a tired smirk. He remembered his earlier trip this morning. First, he found the address of an old teacher and gave him a visit. Valentine wanted what everyone else wanted – money. All it took was five hundred bucks for him to sign in as Jonathan and retrieve the locket. Jace thought he did it because he'd always had a soft spot for Clary. He saw the fire in her determined eyes as she worked every day in training and admired it, much like Jace did. Of course, he was still a selfish man that required money. Either way, it was his blonde hair that was so similar to Jonathan the convinced the guard despite the obvious age difference.

"I had a little help."

"What? Jace needed help? Since when?" Isabelle pranced into the kitchen.

Jace rolled his eyes. "Magnus, just give it to her." He shoved the envelope into his hands. Magnus starred at Jace with annoyance. He sent him a cheeky grin, and Magnus caved.

"Anything else?"

Jace crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes," he said. His gaze settled on Jonathan. "Are you going to get custody of her?"

Jonathan snorted. "Yes, just around the same time they release her to you." He sighed. "I'm lucky they let me go without jail time. Either way, she'd never agree to it."

Jace grimaced. "You're right. She's going to hate you even more than now."

"Thanks for the word of confidence," Jonathan threw his half-eaten apple at Jace. He dodged it easily. "Max! School!"

Max came running into the kitchen like the little ball of energy he'd always been. He'd grown since Jace last saw him. The moment the boy's eyes landed on Jace, he stopped in his tracks. "Jace!"

Jace squatted down and let Max nearly tackle him to the floor in his strongest hug he could manage. "When did you get back?"

Jace grinned. "Not long ago. Hey, did you deliver my note?"

Max nodded. "Celine read it every night since you guys left. Sometimes, she cried." He snickered.

Jace gave him two notes. One was for him and one was for Celine. He'd been planning on leaving them for Max and Celine when he turned eighteen. Clary had deserved more than a note, of course. He was still unsure what he would have done – what he'd been able to do. The best thing he could have thought of would have been to buy an apartment close by. Hell, if he had known Isabelle had this apartment, he would have convinced her to let him rent a room. But he didn't know, and he had had no plan. It took a few weeks for him to get enough money for a ticket to visit his manor. Clary would have thought he'd left her. So maybe it was good things happened the way they did. He still had a chance to win her back, right? He liked to think he did. The panic in her eyes as they were forced to go their separate ways was something he'd never forget. If, in all her anger, her undying desperation to be with him still existed he had a chance. It was going fine…until Clary got admitted to a mental institution.

Magnus said she had lost a fourth of her body weight since arriving, and he just recently got her to speak again. Clary hadn't picked up a sketchbook since the day they were separated, or if she had, she hadn't kept a single drawing. He didn't like it. Clary was messed up. So was he. But he never imagined Clary would just…break like that. Even if it wasn't either of their faults, Jace wasn't with her. She was all alone in that building. Jace knew her thoughts. He knew how fucked up she could be. He knew how awful she thought about herself when she was alone. He knew she'd search endlessly for what she'd done wrong, what she did to push everyone away. However, Jace also knew how strong she was. She listened to his painful childhood without judgment. When she called on it, she had that fiery, red-headed rage that would burst out of her glowing green eyes without hesitation. Clary could push past it when she wanted to, but Jace had a gut feeling that for the longest time, she didn't have a reason or inkling of an urge to push past her depression.

Depression was such an odd word to describe Clary, too. The girl he'd do anything for had depression. It would be like hearing after all his struggles to rummage up money to pay for the first month's rent, he found out he had to pay the first three months in advance. He had her, and then he was slowly losing her. It would have been different if he could do something. But with a problem like depression, he could fight anyone or steal anything. All he could do was hope that things got better for her.

It was good that he wasn't by her side, at least for his sake, he thought. If he had to sit there and watch Clary stare at him with eyes deader than his, with no hint of a smile, with no spark behind her emerald fortresses, he didn't know how he could keep from breaking down. It made sense to him, but it also didn't. The way she'd stepped into the street, uncaring of the cars around her was a sign. The way she drank until she couldn't remember. The way her smile didn't meet her eyes. The way she had come to claim Stephen's comments were barely anything. She had stopped caring about a lot of things a long time ago.

But Jace mainly knew the spunky, passionate side of her. A depressed girl rarely had a passion for things like love or art. Clary did. Clary could draw and paint until her hands started to bleed. The way Clary had kissed him for the first time was unlike anything he'd felt before. She'd had so much exhilaration with one kiss. He'd assumed it was the anticipation and excitement of a first kiss between two people, but then they kissed again. Kissing her for the twentieth time was like kissing her for the first. They lusted for each other, but it was more than simple desire. She'd thrown all of her emotions into each kiss. Instead of her thoughts floating inside of her head, she passed them on top Jace with each kiss, and in doing so, their connection was hotter than a flame.

They burned each other with their love, and they didn't even know it.

He'd give anything to share one more kiss with her, to get a look into her mind and try to comprehend what was going on in there. It would be dark, he decided, like a house with nobody home.

Max, shaking Jace back to reality, whispered in his ear. "I'm glad you came back."

Jace grinned. "Me too. How's school?"

"School that he's going to be late to? Let's go or they're going to take you back, Max!" Isabelle shoved him to the table and set a bowl of food in front of him. Max rolled his eyes and began stuffing his face.

Jace stood slowly. Max stayed with Celine and Stephen for three days more than Clary and Jace. After that, they gave the parents joint custody. However, Alec and Isabelle watched him most of the time since they were both working all day long. "Magnus, get her that locket. Okay?"

Magnus offered a slight wave. "If it's the last thing I do."

. . .

 ** _Clary_**

She sat on her bed for hours. All she did was stare. She stared at the locket like it was all that mattered to her. It used to be. One side was the familiar, bright-smiling faces of Jon and Clary. The other side opened up so that there were two other pictures. Her eyes were centered on the picture on the far right.

Jocelyn Fray had the same noble features as Clary, but they were so much more on her mother. They were more perfected, more sculpted, more beautiful. She'd missed being able to look at her mother and hope that she could some day look like her, some day be as good of a person as her. Clary knew she wasn't, but she liked to imagine that her mother would have been proud. Her smiling face glowed next to Luke Garroway. Instead of looking at the camera, he was staring at Jocelyn. Hands wrapped around his wife in the familiar way they'd held Clary when she was scared. She used to be so scared.

A tear slipped down her cheek and nearly hit the locket. The best picture was the one in the middle, though. Clary was again three years old. Luke had her on his shoulders, where she had extremely disheveled his hair into a wreck. Jocelyn was laughing and had a hand pressed to Luke's chest endearingly. Her eyes were smiling brightly at Jonathan as he stood on a step stool and pressed his lips to his mother's cheek.

"Clary?"

Magnus, with his sharp and subtly empathetic eyes, had his head peeking through the door. He'd probably been there for an amount of time more than socially acceptable, but earlier that day, he'd snuck Clary the greatest gift anyone had ever given her on a physical aspect. With a bleary wipe of her eyes, Clary gingerly shut the locket and tucked it into her bra, hooking it around the strap. She wasn't losing this.

"Yes?"

His eyes sighed in reservation. "We're ready for you. Are you, my dear?"

Clary smiled grimly. She felt the cool metal dangling against her chest and gathered the courage for a nod. Magnus entered fully into the room to rebind her shirtsleeves to her side. Normally, she wasn't allowed any time alone without them bound to her body, but in light of the recent delivery he'd given Clary, he figured she deserved some time alone with her mother's locket. After all, it was her birthday.

"Congratulations. I hear turning seventeen is a big deal among you kids." Magnus said as emotionlessly as he could. Clary suspected, considering all his tightly knit restraint here, that outside of the hospital, Magnus was a very energetic person.

"Yeah?" Clary scoffed, throat still uneasy with speaking. His long separated visits weren't close enough to fill the lonely void in her heart and body. "Why's that?"

Magnus shrugged and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's the year that sex suddenly isn't deemed as childish by your peers."

Clary let a slight laugh escape her lips. "Hmm. Hopefully, I'll be able to take advantage of that."

Laughing, Magnus led her out the door and down the hall. Clary's eyes scanned every nook and crevice, though it was all rather bland. Most of the things in her isolation wing were white. They turned left and continued on their path for a few more feet until reaching a room with a warning sign on the front: medical professionals only.

Inside, they passed a court official and a second doctor. Magnus took Clary into the interrogation room, or that's what she called it. It was an exact replica of the police's interrogation room sans the grime. Everything was white. The one-way looking glass reflected Clary's image back to her, and she wasn't pleased with what she saw. Of course, she didn't care much about it. Magnus was the only repetitive person she saw, and his eyes never even paused over her rat's nest of hair piled on top of an extremely thin face with sunken in, dark rimmed eyes and hallow cheeks that pushed her cheekbones out to a sickly length.

The sad thing was that she'd been eating every meal. Well, she'd eaten at every meal. Most of the time, she started feeling ill halfway through, sometimes just a fourth. Nevertheless, she had hoped her ribs hadn't been so prominent or that her boobs had gained back some of their cute mass. She had gone down at least a cup and full size since arriving. One thing she couldn't tell was how her bottom was doing. Knowing how little she'd moved, she doubted it was as firm or voluptuous as before.

"Somebody's feeling quite vain today," Magnus noted as he undid Clary's arm sleeves and attached them to the table. "Good sign. Means you're caring a bit."

Clary's lips lifted up slightly. "You don't think I'll pass."

"I-,"

"You wouldn't be trying to lighten the mood if you did," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "It's not like I have anywhere to go after this, so really I don't care. But, at the least, I need some answers. And that will only happen if I get out of this goddy jacket and isolation ward."

Magnus seemed pleased with her answer. "You've got spunk. I like that," he grinned and glanced at the door. "Okay, my friend will be asking you some questions. Answer them. Together, we will determine your mental state. If you pass, our personal social worker will escort you to your previously determined social worker. If you fail, we will have to determine further treatment. I'll be in the other room watching the whole time. Call if you need anything." He paused. "Are you ready?"

Clary took a deep breath. She felt cold in this white room. It was she and nobody else. This wasn't something anyone could help her through, and she knew that. She'd prepared for it. She just wished somebody had been there on the other side for her support.

"You enjoy your present?" Magus caught wind of the nerves bouncing around in her eyes. He smiled knowingly.

Clary remembered the locket. At the mention of the gift, she was more aware of the now warm metal pressing lightly against her stomach. Closing her eyes, Clary imagined her mother handing this necklace down to her, blessing it with a kiss. She remembered Jocelyn wearing this almost every day, even when she painted. She had dared to risk it. Clary always wondered why she would risk such a beautiful piece of jewelry.

"Sometimes, you need to protect things. Other times, if you try to protect something, it becomes useless and loses its value. Dare to be brave," her mother had answered with the same certainty a woman would say to her daughter as she calmed her nerves before her wedding. The way with which she spoke… Clary knew her mother was wiser than she'd ever dream of becoming. She had knowledge and experience. She'd made mistakes and been through rough times, but she chose to learn from them.

It was Clary's turn to take her past and learn from it. She took a deep breath. She wasn't alone in this room. Her parents would always be tucked away in her chest.

"I'm ready."

* * *

 **A/N: Guyssss, you're the shit! So many awesome reviews! I never imagined so many of you would have stayed out to this point, let alone care enough about it to give your opinions.**

 **So I know this was a short chapter and somewhat of a filler chapter, but also not. I wrote it in like two/three days, but it wasn't even bad writing, surprisingly. I liked where it ended. If I added the next section in, the flow would be totally off. You didn't get to see much Clace in here, but you got an update on the world outside of Clary for once. How did you like that new insight? Honestly, I loved writing in Jace's perspective, especially concerning Clary. Ah, a girl can only dream for a Jace, yeah?**

 **Anyways, let me know what you thought about Jace's POV and the locket and, most importantly, what Clary's new diagnosis is going to be. Any expectations for the next chapter? What do you want to see? Lemme hear it! You guys went above and beyond on the reviews last chapter. Can I see eighteen reviews? I love love love your feedback! If I get EIGHTEEN, I'll update for sure in five days or as soon as I get it written!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot.**

* * *

 **The Reunion**

She focused on giving Magnus what he wanted. Since he was helping her out of that place, she assumed that he, at least, had confidence that she would be okay on her own. Of course, she wouldn't actually be on her own. It was the first time she had thought about where she'd go to after being released. The idea of leaving Magnus, the one guy who always listened, hurt her a little. She knew it was his job, but by the lengths he'd went to in order to bring her gifts and escape plans, he cared.

So she pushed back her 'depressing' thoughts. Giving a person what they wanted to hear wasn't the hardest thing in the world. It only became hard when he asked her about her parents, about Jonathan, about Simon, about Jace. Her voice had cracked and it became hard to breathe, but Clary pushed on. For whatever reason, Jace and Magnus wanted her out of there. Furthermore, she knew it was time to buck up and finally do something for herself. Maybe she'd get a job and apply to live on her own.

Considering her time spent in the mental facility, she doubted it, but she could hope. After all, Clary desperately needed hope.

So passing his evaluation wasn't hard. She was in a dark, deserted place when she'd bitten the woman. Now, though it was not _considerably_ less dark, she did had minor rays of light peeking through cracks of her wall. She could control her emotions, at least to the point so as to function normally without hurting anyone, or seem that way. Magnus' lenience also helped.

The hard part was thinking about how to say goodbye to Magnus. She'd grown to enjoy his company. Maybe it was by lack of options, but his cool, collected persona always made Clary feel less alone. Magnus wasn't a person who could be shut out; he wouldn't let you. It was that stubborn behavior that forced Clary to attack her problems head on after months of putting them in the back of her mind.

. . .

Stepping out into the daylight was like stepping out onto the moon. She had previous knowledge of this strange world, but she had never actually seen it. She was a camera with a new lens, and nothing was the same, nor would it ever be. She could see the familiar planet far off in the distance, but she might as well have been seeing mars.

For some odd reason, Clary expected to see faces from her previous life. Therefore, she felt a recognizable pang in her heart.

People were rushing past her on the street, and cars were zooming by at seemingly alarming speeds. A random person yelled at her for stopping in the middle of a busy street.

"Is it too late to go back?" Clary glanced uneasily between Magnus and Big Bev.

Magnus wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steered her in a safe path to Bev's car. "What happens to Clary now?"

Bev shifted her gaze to the paperwork for a moment even though everyone knew she'd had nothing better to do than memorize the case while waiting on Clary to be formally dismissed from the mental hospital that morning. When she looked up, however, she hid all forms of emotion. "Considering her past, she will be placed in a group home – level 14."

Clary held back a gasp. She had heard horror stories about that place. It was more of a military school than a home. If the building had to be staffed and have multiple levels, all as big as cafeteria, Clary considered that a place to shove all leftover brats.

"Why the fuck didn't you say that earlier? I would have bit somebody's finger _off_ if I knew that would happen!"

Magnus' brow furrowed. "Are you sure there's nothing else we can do?"

Bev sighed. Her eyes landed on Magnus' hand protectively holding Clary into his side, like once he released her, Bev would send her off to the prison. Truthfully, that was exactly what would happen. Clary looked up at Magnus and his analytical feline eyes, praying he had something up his sleeve. Bev groaned and set the papers in the passenger seat. "Off the record, unless you can find somebody willing to foster a previously mentally unstable and potentially harmful seventeen year old with a bad track record, you can't stop it. However, I am not saying you can't delay the inevitable.

Clary breathed out slowly. "I trusted you! You said he had a plan!" Clary hissed, jerking her body away from Magnus. She'd rather be kept in the building of white than in a prison full of real juvenile delinquents.

Magnus cleared his throat. "Funny enough, Jace helped me file to get my fostering license, oh, almost three months ago. Now, we are just a week or so from completing the license. I don't suppose you could get a rush order on it?"

Clary's heart stopped.

Bev grimaced. "No." She glanced at her watch. "I have to go. You didn't… _forget_ anything, did you? Did you sign all the release forms?"

Clary raised her eyebrows at the suggestive tone Bev used. She looked at Magnus, who slowly began to smile. "Matter of fact, I believe I forgot to get the signature from the second opinion. We need two opinions documented to release such a possible danger to society like Miss Fray here. Wait here?"

Bev didn't look very displeased. "I'm afraid I have to be somewhere. She'll simply have to stay here until I can squeeze time into my busy schedule to retrieve her. I'm sorry, Clary."

"Big Bev, you sly dog," Clary leered and threw her arms around the woman who'd worked so hard to help her out, even daring to bend a rule or two at the risk of her job. "I think I can manage."

Bev nodded with a grim smile, though she didn't seem very distraught. "I'll inform the group home they won't be seeing you until Tuesday."

That gave Clary three days to brace herself for the group home. It wasn't much, but it wasn't like it mattered. Either way, she was going in that hell hole. The only concerning part of the conversation was Magnus' announcement.

Had he intended to foster Clary this entire time? A fostering license took months to get. She'd been there only for around three or four months. She'd only met him halfway through, as well. As Big Bev left, Clary turned to Magnus.

"I don't suppose you planned on telling me this, did you?"

Magnus sent her a pert grin and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't think I'm letting you live without me for long than a second, darling."

Clary scoffed, but secretly her heart warmed to new temperatures.

. . .

The two days Clary spent mentally preparing herself to be locked in a 'group home' of delinquents was spent, thankfully, in vain. Magnus pulled his doctor card and declared Clary 'stable yet unsafe around girls her own age with the risk of agitating her.'

Big Bev had sighed. "The court is going to fight this, Dr. Bane. They'll argue she should be held under your supervision for longer."

Magnus smiled nonchalantly. "And I'd agree."

"But-,"

"Clary is still malnourished. She hardly gets a night's sleep without waking up in tears or screaming. A group home would ignore these things and certainly make them worse."

"Magnus, but you said I could be released!" Clary hissed.

He nodded. "You know that fostering license you said couldn't be rushed? Well, it can be for a mentally unstable patient. We all believe it's best if she is left in my, or another doctor's, care."

Bev looked incredulously between Clary and Magnus. A fleeting spark of anticipation shot through Clary. She never imagined getting a break from the foster system. Knowing Magnus, he wouldn't send her back in under a year. She grinned expectantly at Bev, insolently begging her to drop all questions and let this happen. If the court signed it, couldn't she allow it? Clary had never been cut such a lucky break like this, not by the system, at least.

"What did you do? Bribe them?"

Magnus tilted his head composedly. Only Clary would know that the tightening of his jaw meant he was worried. She'd watched him just as much as he'd watched her. So. They did bribe them. Clary's good mood gradually fell. She wasn't lucky. And she knew exactly who bribed them.

"That is a strong accusation," Magnus sighed. "I did no such thing. Here's my license. May I take Clary home now?" His arm wrapped around Clary's shoulders, and no matter how happy she was to be going home with him, her stomach still twisted into a painful knot. She knew who would be waiting there for her. It'd been a long time since she'd seen him. The idea of it scared her.

It scared her to make a decision to either keep him in her life or put him on hold, possibly indefinitely. There was a lot going on inside her head. That much became clear to her inside the mental facility. She had to deal with things. She had to find answers. And she had to keep from killing herself in the process. The number one stressor, Magnus said, was a relationship. Most tended to end badly, and many happened to be unhealthy throughout the entire relationship. Clary didn't know how to tell if starting things up again with Jace would be detrimental to her health. She knew that was what she wanted – what she craved. But she also knew that was not how she should get her joy in life. Being happy shouldn't depend on anyone but herself. Could she find happiness in something else while seeing the love of her life?

Bev sighed as she scanned over the paper. "Since you've already been her care provider, I suppose I can't ignore this…" She looked at Clary. "Is this what you want?"

Clary forced a smile that wasn't a smile to her lips. "Absolutely."

Big Bev nodded. "Well then, I suppose it's settled. One last thing, Clarissa. Your brother has some important news pertaining to the deaths of your parents. He's requested we let him tell you within the week. Are you okay with us giving him your information?"

Clary's heart skipped a beat. Something new was found about the fire. Jace and she had been right, so long ago. She'd nearly forgotten that they'd grown suspicious, what with all the drama that went on shortly after. "What news? Tell me!"

Bev's face fell. "I can't. I, personally, don't know. If you wish to keep away from Jonathan, I can have his lawyer come by your house and explain the news."

Clary mumbled a hasty, "I'll talk to Jonathan, thanks." He'd be the quickest. Ideas of the previously undiscovered news about the fire burst into her mind. She wondered what type of evidence could be hidden from the police for years and suddenly discovered. How did they miss that? More importantly, why did they reopen the case? And what was so urgent it was too classified for her social worker to know?

. . .

For a doctor, Magnus had a dark house. His lights were all low-lit. The furniture were different shades of black and blood red. It wasn't necessarily messy, but there was a lot of things everywhere. Drapes and paintings half covered and lamps and interpretive décor. The whole place was disorienting, but it offered Clary some relief. Finally, she had more to look at than white walls and stale bread.

"You really passed inspection?" Clary muttered as she kicked aside some handcuffs that she really didn't want to imagine what he used them for.

Magnus smiled mysteriously. "I can be quite persuasive, Clarissa." Clary flinched at the use of her name. "Who called you that? Your mom?"

"Dad." She spun around once more and flopped on the couch. "So. When can I meet the elusive boyfriend you speak of so rarely?"

Magnus chuckled. "Your room is down the hall, first door on the left. Mine is the last door. If my boyfriend happens to be over, make sure to knock loudly before coming in."

Clary snorted. "I'm seeing another side to you. Freaky."

He shrugged. "And I am seeing another side of you, too, Clarissa. Not so depressed when in your normal environment."

She sent him a passive smile. "Don't tempt me."

The cheetah print blanket nearly covered his television. Magnus entered the kitchen and came out with a tub of ice cream. He tossed her the blanket and turned on the electronic device so modern Clary had to blink twice at its appearance. The last time she'd something so up to date had been through a glass door as she looked in a rich-person store.

Magnus handed her a spoon, pencil, and sketchbook. She hardly recognized her sketchbook from so long ago. "Jace gave it to me. He had Max steal it before Stephen tossed out all your remaining things they didn't let you take."

Clary marveled at Magnus, mouth agape in awe. Then a thought dawned on her mind. "Oh no," she muttered and flipped through the pages until she saw the beginnings of her 'Jace Series' "He saw this…"

"He had much trouble parting with it," Magnus nodded, watching her carefully. Clary could only imagine what he'd felt when he saw these pages. Did he see how strong her attachment to him had grown? Did he find it disturbing, like he had a stalker? "He said he left you a note on the back of a few."

Clary's head whipped up, eyes growing large. "No."

"Yes," Magnus argued with glee. He offered her the ice cream but she shoved it aside. Her focused turned immediately onto the sketchbook. Hand shaking, she flipped the first golden sketch of Jace over. There, in tantalizing cursive writing, was the work of the model himself.

 _I remember the first time I saw this. Gave me the guts to kiss you. I'm so glad you drew this._

Clary went on to the next few. He left comments only on some.

 _I'm quite offended. You hid my abs behind all the tattoos. Don't lie. You've seen the real deal now. Fix it._

Clary burst into laughter at that. Magnus pretended not to notice on her intimate reunion with her love. It was a casual reunion, not one of mass feeling and declarations of undying love. It was something that made Clary smile with strain. It was soft and endearing, something she could look back at any time in her life and fail to keep a grin off her face and warmth flooding through her heart.

When Clary showed him her drawings on the rooftop one morning so long ago, she had only drawn three of him. But there was a night like no other they'd spent together doing nothing but saying everything, and it had spurred a burst of sketches in his honor. In their honor of their love. The next portrayed the moment when Jace kissed her on the edge of the building. Jace held her while Clary's arms and head craned back, itching for the thrill of death. It was from so far away, however, the only indication of their identities was their hair color.

 _Let me fly with you again._

Then came the image of Clary's pain. She had glossy eyes and tears running down her face. She was standing behind Jace, who owned a particularly angry face. He was facing off with a dark shadow. Only she knew it was Jonathan screaming at them like he'd done multiple times now.

 _I'll protect you always, Clarissa._

That one made her agitated. She sat up straighter, wearing a frown. "I don't need his protection."

"Sure you don't," Magnus said while sipping on his beverage of choice with that all-knowing tone. Clary glared at him.

"I don't."

"Then why did it take his letter to pull your out of your depression long enough to convince me you're somewhat stable?" Magnus didn't look away from the television once. "You rely on him a lot. Ever find anything fun aside from sex?"

"Drawing." She'd been drawing and painting long before venturing on to sex in her life. It'd always been a joy of hers. Lately, she felt it require too much effort. The interest had slipped past her hands.

"Then draw. Be yourself. Let the boy be a part of your life but not your whole life. Understand?" He didn't give her a second to respond. "Good. Boy talk over. Keep looking. I like his last note."

"That's an invasion of privacy," Clary rolled her eyes and glanced at the next image.

It was the last one she'd finished. She'd drawn an image of Jace and Clary in a totally different world where they had to worry about fighting demons and evil parents, which wasn't that unlike the real world.

 _We're baddass here, Red. Hot._

She smiled slightly and flipped to the next page. It was a half drawn image of the two of them kissing. She'd only gotten around to beginning the lips so they weren't actually kissing, but the intent was clear. She was still unsure if she wanted them kissing at all. If not, she could keep his eyes open and the world could see an up close image of the miniscule yet brilliant golden sparkle of his eyes. His jaw line was drawn to perfection, and his hair was as curly and soft as she remembered it. She'd enhanced her eyes to be slightly brighter than they normally were. The emerald green clashed against her red locks that framed her face, hiding part of it from the outside world.

 _I wished you'd drawn your lips. I miss your lips. I miss the smell of your hair after a shower. The way your eyes lit up when we'd sit on the edge of the building, rambling on about nothing. I hear they haven't been lighting up much on their own. That's perfectly fine. You can be down. I just want to know you'll get back up some day. When you're ready, come find me. Let your friends guide you in the right direction. All of them._

 _I hope you'll let me look in your book more often. Some nights, I shift through each picture twice before closing my eyes and praying a dream of your voice – your smile – your anything would come to me._

 _I love you, Fray._

\- _Wayland_

"I can't believe you – you read this," Clary said between gasps of breath.

Her lungs had gone dry. Her heart had stopped beating. Jace's angelic voice whispered the words over and over into her ear, chuckling at her last name, like it was some hot joke only he knew about. Her mind struggled to imagine him sitting down and writing this but failed. She could imagine the pain he felt while staring at each drawing, though. She could imagine how hard this had been on him, just like it'd been on her. Clary depended on Jace, but Jace depended so much on Clary. Clary had seen him. She'd been the only one to truly see the childhood pain locked behind his shield of gold. She'd held him while he stared at nothing, remembering everything. She knew his darkest demons.

How terrifying that much be, for a person as secluded as him, to open up everything to a girl, only to have her ripped from his arms, unsure if she'd ever come back. He'd taken half his heart – half his soul – and placed it in Clary's hands for her safekeeping. And now he didn't know if he'd ever see it again.

Clary reached out and Magnus once again placed the ice cream in her hands. This time, she took it numbly and began eating away. Her mind was at war with itself. She wanted a new life. She wanted to forget the routine of the old and find happiness. But she knew how easily happiness was in Jace. She wanted both, no matter how selfish that was of her.

"What do I do?"

Magnus offered her a tissue to wipe at her blubbering nose. "Find yourself. If he truly cares about you, he'll wait."

Clary knew he would. And she hated herself for it. If the situation were reversed, she would feel mountains of hurt and betrayal at the idea of Jace being free and not finding her immediately. But if she ran back into her arms, wasn't it the same as running back to her old life of misery and mourning?

She'd force Jace to suffer so she wouldn't. Or. She'd let her whole essence collapse back to the old, unhealthy lifestyle of loving a man more than she loved herself.

With each scoop of chocolaty goodness, she drifted further and further away from the answer.

* * *

 **A/N: After so many chapters, you start to regret the name of the story. It actually describes them quite well, but man, it's an odd one. How have you all been? I am, as always, loving the reviews! What did you think of this chapter? I actually enjoyed this a lot, even if it jumped around a lot. What did you think about his notes? Can I just produce my own Jace Wayland boyfriend now please? I think I've written about him enough to have programmed my own version, yes?**

 **Ah, happy Thanksgiving break, fellow high school students of the U S of A. I am very fucking thankful for a week long break, I know that. I am probably going to be posting around thanksgiving so I will save my thanksgiving speech for then.**

 **As always, leave me your comments. Did you like it or hate it? Is the break between the physical Clace being too stretched out for your to bare? I know it is for me! Oh! And do you like the idea of Clary living with Magnus? I love love love it for some reason. If not, tell me why! I really enjoy seeing the differences in the reviews. It's a split between some of you wanting Clary to be independent but also loving the Clace of them together, and those of you wanting Clary to simply find herself and be independent. Only time will tell. Tell me your opinion on the question perturbing Clary's mind at the end here? Selfishness or selflessness? It's not always so black and white in the world. ;) Can I see 18 reviews this time? We were so close last time! 18 please!**


	17. Chapter 17

hey guys.

I normally don't do this - warning you, I mean. It's just that I really like this story, but I need a break.

It's a pitiful explanation as to why I can't write for this at the moment. And I don't want your pity. However, I would want a valid explanation. So you can figure out if this is valid or not. It's been long story and I owe it to you guys.

Anyone know what it's like to just feel nothing? No inspiration to do anything. Even watching a movie. I'm a huge foodie, and even food hasn't brought me out of the dumps. And then the times I do feel something, it doesn't stick.

Okay I am cringing at even writing this. Feel free to ignore that part. The point is that I'm _not_ stopping this story. But I'm not going to be able to update it for a while. I want to say I'll update within a month, but honestly these things aren't predictable. I feel like shit for doing this, but I promise I won't abandon the story. I just have to do something that I like for a time, and there's a different story that I'm stuck to. Maybe if I hurry and finish that, I can start up on this again. But if you see me posting a new story, I apologize.

I will update - just not to soon.

I'm so sorry. Check back in a month and hopefully I'll have something. Sorry.


	18. Chapter 18

**Lonesome Wanderer**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.**

 **A/N: feel free to kill me. i am an awful author. i know. if you'd like my personal explanation for my fucking absence from this story (aside from fucked up depression which can make a story stop for months alone), read below. if not, read on.**

so. for the longest time i couldn't force myself to write for this story. after writing manyyy one shots and one long story for nico and will from percy jackson, a gay couple that i adore, i kinda stumbled onto something. there was the exception of writing a one shot for austin and ally, but that was because ross lynch never ever fails to make me melt. anyways, so i got in an unexpected relationship back in december, right? well, we had talked for about two months before meeting for the second time (first was at a golf tournament) and things got intense fast. i never have had intense emotions for a guy before, never thought i could, but they snuck up on me with him. and we lived three and a half hours apart. so after hanging out three or four times and meeting my family, we ended things. we still catch up, and it was only two months, but my heart and body like to act like we were in love. LOL anyways, therapy session over. so i was talking to my friend and we came upon my current theory. i've tried starting things with other guys, guys i should like, but i've never been interested. i never felt the attraction, and i couldn't make it work. well, i think the same thing is going on here. i couldn't feel the attraction to this story or any heterosexual relationship just because it's not him. gay couples? sure, because i could never have that (i'm a girl, btw) but i just couldn't make myself interested.

 **i really kinda hope none of you read that. anyways, i finally finished it! i am SO sorry for the wait. it ate at me everyday. sorry.**

* * *

"What's this?" Magnus asked as he walked into the kitchen, shirtless. The smell of bacon wafted through the apartment. "Did you eat it all without me?"

Clary chuckled softly and spun around with a plate of pancakes in hand. "No. I hid them. You'll have to eat to find out!"

Magnus smiled widely. "I should have taken in a depressed teenager earlier." He rubbed his hands as he sat down, eyeing the food with an animalistic tint. "I'm glad you made so many. I never have enough food to vanquish your brother's hunger."

Clary almost choked on the bite of bacon pancake she was chewing. "My brother?"

Magnus nodded. "It's been a week. Aren't you curious?"

Truthfully, she'd been doing a lot in the week she'd had to settle in. She organized her room. She cleaned the kitchen. Mostly, she'd taken up painting. Normally, that was her mother's work. Clary enjoyed sketching any and everything in sight, never having enough patience to finish it with much color. But every time she'd laid eyes on the locket as she stared at herself in the mirror, she'd felt a strong everlasting urge to reconnect in any way possible with her mother. When she painted, the whole world left Clary. She could imagine her mother beside her, correcting her stroke and influencing which colors to blend, the correct amounts, the correct dimensions.

"Yes, but…"

She had no more time to debate the subject before a firm knock pressed to the door. Clary's heart clenched in fear, and suddenly she doubted he was alone. According to Jace's note, he'd somehow befriended her brother. If he was here…

Magnus opened the door before giving her the chance to get ahold of herself. "Where is she?" he sounded ravenous as he tore through the apartment. Clary sucked in a breath of air, and that was before she saw him. He looked…different.

Jonathan had deep blue rings under his eyes, and they were sunken in, like sleep had been a scarce sight for him recently. He seemed thinner, but only by a tad. He wore these huge boots that were much larger than he usually wore. He had an ear piercing now, and his blonde hair was short, back to just below his ears instead of past his shoulders. A deep pang rang through Clary's body. She'd missed so much while she was away. Her mind jumped to the others. What new changes occurred with them? Did Isabelle ever get the belly piercing she wanted? Did she convince Alec to die a streak of his hair blonde? No, Clary figured Magnus would have complained about that to her. Still, she wondered. Her thoughts drifted to Simon, and she wondered if he regretted what he did. She wondered if he'd expected it would put her in a mental facility, though she clearly had long stemming problems never before addressed.

Her thoughts were cut short. Jonathan was in front of her in an instant, squeezing her body in his arms like he'd never get a chance to again. It was longer than a reunion hug, and Clary eventually had to push him away. She forced a smile to her lips, though her abdomen somehow wasn't as excited as it should have been. She blamed it on the foreboding bad news that normally accompanied fires. There was no other reason she wouldn't be happy to see her brother.

"Hey, Jon," Clary muttered, unsure how to act around him suddenly. Jonathan seemed to be watching her every move. He gulped and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Hey, Clare," he smiled, but the warmth wasn't in it. "How are you feeling?"

Clary's stomach dropped. She hated that question. Her eyes hardened slightly. "Uh, we have food. Eat something."

Jonathan didn't miss her avoiding the question. Nevertheless, he sat down beside her and grabbed a pancake, practically inhaling the food. He sighed and grinned with pleasure. "I've missed this."

Clary shrugged, watching him eat. He acted the same. Magnus walked back into the kitchen, checking his phone momentarily. She was grateful for his presence. There was an awkward silence of Clary wanting to ask him about their parents, and also being deafly afraid of doing so. Words were about to spew from her, and she wasn't prepared. Magnus, at least, could calm Clary. He was pretty good about doing so, most of the time.

"Clary, I'm going to meet up with Alec today. You okay here with Jonathan?"

Clary's world stopped. "Uh-,"

"Wonderful," Magnus grinned mischievously, knowing Clary's exact thoughts. "Call me if you need anything!"

And then Clary sat staring at the ghost of Magnus' and his lingering glitter. Jonathan grunted in response to another bacon. It seemed to be his last one because he spun around in the chair. For a minute, he sat gazing with no words. As usual, Jon's emotions were written plain on his face. She glanced at her feet and muttered, "I don't want to fight anymore. I don't have the energy."

"They drug you up in there?" Jon asked with a hint of a joke. Clary glared at him. "Sorry."

She hardened her look and crossed her arms. She couldn't hold out any longer. "So. The fire."

Jonathan gulped. He blushed. "Jumping straight to it, huh?" He kicked off his shoes and moved to the couch. Clary followed cautiously, almost scared to be too close to him. She'd never forget the way he'd yelled insensitively at her with his entire body. She could still feel the vibrations from his words.

Clary's eyes locked on to something resting above his sock. She knew what that was. She's seen it on the ankles of many people when passing through the cheapest neighborhoods. Jon had an ankle bracelet.

"You went to jail?" she didn't try to hide the shock and judgment in her voice. His eyes sagged and he patted the seat beside him. Nervously, Clary sat on the edge of the couch. She took a shaky breath. "Start explaining. Now."

Jonathan looked pained, like he knew what he was about to do would be his biggest regret of his life. "First, you have to promise to hear me out."

"I – I promise."

He nodded. "I'll start from the beginning then." And he began. "I was just messing around. Mom had candles all over the place, but she never lit them unless we had company coming over. And I wanted to mix these two candles together to see if they'd make a cool smell for my room. So I took a box of matches and tried to light them, but the matches were between the two candles, and I dropped the match. The e…entire box burst into flames. I tried to get water, but when I came back in, the entire carpet was on fire. I freaked out – any kid would, you know? I grabbed mom's curling iron from under the sink. I thought I could blame it on her. I didn't think that it would lead to the entire house.

"The fire in Mom's bathroom was a lot bigger, and faster. I tried to put it out, but water didn't affect it – it was an electrical fire, after all. So I ran away, yelling for Mom and Dad, but I couldn't find them. And then I found you, coughing and stumbling around, but our house was huge. I barely got us out. Well, you remember. I was going to go back in, but it was too late. And when the firefighters said it was a tragic accident…I didn't say anything. But I did testify under oath that I knew nothing of what started the fire. And when I didn't come forward sooner, they wanted to punish me. So I'm on probation of my building to work and back. This is an exception."

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked into Clary's. "I never meant for it to happen, Clary. You have no idea how sorry I am. Everything I've done in life was to make up for it, but…there's no bringing them back, and you look so much like Mom that the guilt just makes me snap. You remind me of the day I took two lives. I know you think I hate you, but I don't. You're all I have left, and I know you'll hate me, but Jace was right. It's time to stop making your decisions for you; it's time to stop protecting you unless you ask. I'm so sorry-,"

Clary flung her arms around his neck, body crashing fully into her big brother. Tears were falling down both of their cheeks. His words struck Clary down to the bone, sending chills along her body. Months ago, if he'd told her this, Clary would have snapped. She would have seen red. She would have put all blame on Jonathan. He'd said the words. He took two lives. She wouldn't have cared it was an accident. She had always blamed the shitty world for their deaths, and now she had somebody physically real to blame. Even now, Clary was tempted to do just that. She was tempted to hit him until his eyes wouldn't open. She was tempted to hate him for the rest of her life.

But she knew pain. She knew he was only a kid. Most importantly, she'd addressed their deaths. She faced it and understood what happened. She understood they were gone, but they hadn't left her. She was on her own, but it was by choice. Now, she had the opportunity to have friends and a new family. She just had to act on it.

 _He carried that guilt for_ years _on his shoulders, without ever saying a word._

They cried together, and when she finally pulled away, she still had questions. "Why did you step forward?"

Jonathan frowned, as if he didn't know himself. "I – you went to the mental institution, and when I met Magnus and Jace…I never knew you hated the world so much, Clary. They way they spoke… You blamed the world for taking them from us. You shut yourself out. I knew you had a rough, dark exterior, but I never got a glimpse on the inside. Jace and Magnus did, and I'm so sorry for doing that to you. It's another thing I did that day – I took your family from you, and I changed who you were meant to be. I'm sorry."

Clary didn't try to deny his words. The increase in tears only made them more true. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest as she felt the onset of anxiety. She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked at her feet as she spoke. "I don't think – I know I wouldn't want to be anybody else. I see the world how it is, only darker, but I'm okay with who I am. Or, I'm going to be. I chose to be like this, Jon. You didn't-,"

"Don't tell me I did nothing! You know that's not true," Jonathan's voice wavered with ultimate rage. Clary's eyes flashed upward with a challenge. His were glinting their alarming black, making him look animalistic.

"You didn't mean to. Things happen, Jon. If your intentions are pure and you didn't know better…" Clary sighed. "There's a reason they didn't charge you with arson or murder. You didn't mean for it to happen."

Jonathan hung his head and didn't respond. He didn't agree, and Clary's heart constricted at that notion.

She bit her lip and braced herself for an argument. "Why would you leave me, Jon? Why didn't you contact me? I was going insane, and you weren't there." Jonathan's eyes burned. "You promised."

He clenched his eyes shut. "I know I promised, Clary. I – I had no money or home. They wouldn't have let me take you if I tried. Even now…"

"You abandoned me! I needed to see you and know you-," she cut herself off. She needed to know she wasn't alone. "I needed you."

Jonathan's hands clenched. He breathed heavily through his nose. "I know, Clary. It was the first time in my life I got to be free. I didn't have to worry about foster parents figuring out my secret. It was the first time I could think about running away and never having to look at you and feel the guilt. It eats me alive, but I was a coward then." He shook his head lower. "I was selfish, and I'm sorry. I learned my lesson, though. When I hooked up with Isabelle, you were the first person I wanted to tell, but you weren't there. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything, Clary."

Clary took a deep breath in and out. She saw his point. She could understand if she wanted to. At this point, she did want to understand. She was so tired of hating things for such easily absolvable reasons. Jonathan opened his mouth with a new wave of grief, but she wrapped her arms around his chest and closed her eyes as she inhaled his scent. It was a safe scent, one she scarcely remembered at this point.

"I love you, Jon. That will never change," she breathed evenly.

"Clary, there's another-,"

"No," she whispered and pulled back gently. "Please, Jonathan, can't we just be normal siblings again? How long can you stay?"

Jonathan was torn, as if he hadn't said all he had intended on saying, but then he broke into a smile and hung his head as he nodded. "Sure, Clare. I can stay for thirty more minutes before this thing starts going off." He shook his ankle defiantly.

Clary let out a breath of air and grinned nervously. She relaxed back into the couch finally, glancing at Jon every few seconds. "So. What's new? Update me on what I've missed."

Jonathan leaned back as well and shrugged. "Well, I got Iz pregnant."

"What!?"

"Kidding! You're still too gullible," he nuzzled her hair, and Clary almost spat at him. She muttered a curse under her breath and glared. "I am living with Isabelle and Alec now, though."

"Y-you're living with Jace?" Clary breathed. He clearly skirted around the subject, but she knew whom Izzy and Alec lived with.

Jon shifted nervously on his feet. "Uh, yeah."

She tried to steady her breathing. His name brought on so much emotion, and now to know her brother lived alongside him pulled at her heartstrings with such force Clary had trouble breathing. Still, she nodded her head and spoke rapidly, as fast as her heart suddenly was pumping. "How is - he?" Her hands intertwined together, and then she pushed them outward.

"He misses you, Clare," Jon shrugged and looked at her with resignation. He wanted to say something else, she realized, but there was nothing else to say. "He got a lot of money from his house. I'm not sure what he's going to do now, but we live in a nice apartment. You'd love the view. Gosh, you'd paint every inch of the sunset. You should come visit. There's plenty of...never mind." He stopped when she looked away to hide her tears. "I'm sorry." Still, he handed her a slip of the address.

She smiled weakly and shook her head. "It's fine. I'm such an emotional wreck right now. I should see him, shouldn't I?"

Jonathan frowned, more aggressively than she'd expected. It was, as always, foreign to see him act in such rash behavior. It didn't seem right. "Your happiness - your sanity, more importantly - shouldn't depend on Jace Wayland of all men."

For some reason, her eyes burned in anger. In a turn around, she spat out, "Why have you always hated him, anyways? Can't you see he made me happy, truly happy? Not just safe or laughing. He made me look forward to waking up? He didn't just stop me from jumping off a roof - he made me want to live on the roof, dammit. So why can't you just accept he's part of me now?"

And like a light bulb lit up in their minds, a slow, devious smile spread upon his lips. "Then that answers your question, doesn't it?"

Clary frowned, growing more irritated with her brother by the second. "You said not to depend on him."

"Just to make you realize that he makes you happy. And I think you should do what makes you happy, always. He's not going anywhere, Clare. I can promise you that. And I'll kick his ass if he does. So find yourself, sure, but that doesn't mean you can't find yourself around him because, whether or not you intend it, if you stay with him for years, the real you will be the you around him."

Clary just stared at him as he heart soared. "I think that's the most poetic thing you've ever said in your life, Jonathan Fray."

She flung her arms around him and sat in his lap. Jonathan laughed and rubbed her back like he used to when she was sick. "I love you too, Clary."

. . .

Simon was my last stop to make before finally seeing Jace again. It was something that had to be settled before she could move on. And Clary intended to move on from this as soon as she could.

She knocked on his door without harshness. Clary wasn't there to yell; she was there to gain a little more understanding. There were few things to think of what he'd do when he saw her. She could imagine him turning pale or slamming the door in her face. She could imagine a few other things, but she never expected him to do what he did.

"Clary, oh my gosh, you're alive! I was worried sick! Where have you been?" His arms squeezed the air out of her lungs. When he released her, he kept running his hands down her arms as if she were harmed. "Where have you been?" He asked again.

Clary yanked her arms, staring at the nerve of him to act so innocent. "Where have I been? I've been exactly where you put me, Simon Lewis!"

He stopped coming after her and just stood there.

"What kind of two-faced guy are you to be worried about me after ratting me out to the fucking cops? Who even does that? I mean-,"

"I didn't! I have no idea what - are you talking about you and Jace?"

"Don't be stupid, of course I am! I came to just find out. Why would you do that, Simon? You promised not to." Clary couldn't have been more distraught at this point. She thought she could handle it. Clearly, she could not.

"Clary, I'll admit I was upset about the two of you, but I'd never do that. I never even considered it, okay?" Simon's eyes wavered dangerously on the edge of sanity. He was honest. He spoke clean words, and Clary had trouble denying it.

"B-but you had to! Isabelle knew long before then and she wouldn't ever." Clary stuttered as her mind struggled to catch up to this unexpected news.

"I swear, Clary. I wouldn't ever either." He took a step forward, and she let him. It seemed like this entire time, she was forgetting something purposefully. The idea of Simon ratting her out was the first thing that came to mind that she didn't ponder other options. "Who else knew?"

Clary thought back on her last days with Jace, and she never felt more stupid.

"That fucker!"

. . .

Originally, Clary intended to wait a week or so before seeing Jace, but she wasn't even going to his house for him. She was going to his house for the man behind her days in the Asylum. She was going to his house for the man who took away the single most important thing in her life. She was going to his house for her brother.

Clary didn't know why she never thought of it before, but now it made perfect sense. It was practically two days after Jonathan burst in on Jace and Clary that they were ratted out.

"Jonathan! Jonathan! Where is that fucker?" Clary barked as Alec let her in the apartment. The apartment was more of a condo. There were two floors, and she checked every one of them on the first floor before coming to the hall with the bedrooms. Alec followed behind her with confusion.

"Uh, yeah, everyone is down here except Jace. That's Jon's roo-," before Alec finished his sentence, the door opened. Jonathan came out and instantly grew a grin.

"Clar-,"

"You're one fake ass son of a bitch, Jon!" Clary pounded her fists into him as her voice cracked and ached under the volume. She was sure everyone in the building could hear her, but she didn't care. "You would turn your own fucking sister into the police? Do you know how badly that could have turned out? Are you stupid? What kind of a brother are you?"

"I-,"

"And then you go and let me blame Simon for everything? You act all high and mighty like you did everything fucking right huh? That's fucked up, man," Clary didn't realize there were tears running down her cheeks. She continued hitting him, and he took everything without another word. "I went through so much pain because of you. You were supposed to protect me, but all you did was make my life hell. How can you live with yourself, you fucking coward? It-,"

"Clary." There was that voice. It haunted her dreams. It smothered her heart every time it pumped. It caressed her cheeks every time she smiled. It was the force behind her smile. Muscles unmoving, Clary tried to breathe. He was here. Jace was _here_ , right behind her. "What's going on?"

"She found out," Alec sighed with impatience. "Shall I call Magnus?"

"Fuck off, dude," Jonathan growled. Her attention was torn between Jace and Jon. "This is between Clary and me. Leave."

"And me," came that golden voice.

"Hardly," Jon barked.

"Have fun," Alec said as he shut the door.

She still couldn't move. When Jace walked directly in front of Jon, it alarmed her greatly. Her eyes followed him. While her ears listened to his voice, his words were lost on her.

Then Jace was ushering Jon out the door. "I'm sorry, Clary. I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I wish I could have taken it back, okay? I'm so sorr-,"

The door silenced his pleas. Clary took another shaking breath and tried to think. It was hard with him around again. Her mind just wanted to focus on Jace. It was more pleasant.

"You knew."

Jace walked back in front of Clary, coming to terms with the fact that she could not move. "Simon was too in love with you to risk losing you." He confirmed with a hard tone to his words. "Jon knew he could follow you wherever you'd go."

Clary shook her head as she tried to process everything. It hurt. That was it. Knowing her brother betrayed her...hurt. It hurt that he'd be so selfish to take away the one person who made her smile just to get her back in his good graces.

"And you're just fine with it?" Clary choked out and looked at him with stormy eyes. He wore dress pants and an undone button up shirt. His hair was combed back, less unruly than she'd ever seen. "You look..."

"Like a rich white dude? I know," Jace rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of Jonathan's desk. With a defeated sigh, Jace stared at his hands. "I wanted to murder your brother for the month. It got worse when I saw you were in -," he cleared his throat as his hands clenched together harder. When he looked up, his eyes were watery. "But he got Max back with his family. He got Stephan off his high horse. He toughened Celine up a little. And he got you help. Real help, Clary. You were in a dark place, and I only did a little to help... I wish I had done more. I'm sorry, Red, I'm so sorry."

Clary swallowed audibly. She didn't have any expectations when it came to Jace. He was too unpredictable to guess what he'd do. The air thinned around them. She looked at her own hands for a while, struggling to make a solid argument against his words. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was to forgive Jonathan. She needed somebody to blame for her months of loneliness. If she couldn't blame anyone, how could she be okay with it all? Was she to blame? Was her fragile mind to blame?

"I was doing fine with you," she mumbled on the verge of tears.

As if her words made something inside of Jace snap, he pushed off the desk and was in front of her in an instant. "I need you to be fine on your own. I need to know if I can't be there you'll still be okay."

Clary's eyes stared into his for eternity. His gold flecks made her heart jump. His words made her confirm what she'd been hoping for since she met Magnus. "I'm fine without you, Jace Wayland. I've been painting. I've been moving. I've been eating. I've been fine." Jace clenched his jaw, as if he was unsure how true her words were. "But I want to be happy."

"Be happy."

She closed her eyes and breathed out, "You make me happy."

He waited a few seconds, and Clary wondered what was going on in his head. Did this make him angry? Sad? Relieved? She wanted to know what he was thinking.

"Like I said, Red, be happy." Then his arms were around Clary, and her body was finally at peace.

. . .

She left with an idea in mind. When she got back to Magnus' place, the paper had already printed out. Jace was coming over in five minutes, so Clary had to hurry. It was a short form anyways. She was almost done when the doorbell rang. Application in hand, she smiled at Jace and slipped on her shoes.

"Hi," she said, firmly in place. Jace cracked his heart-warming smile and stepped forward so he encased her in another hug.

"Hey Red," he breathed into her hair. Energy coursed though Clary at his familiar nickname. His hands grabbed the paper from hers mine. "What's this?"

"My application," she mumbled against his chest, his muscled chest that was so warm. When she looked up, he was reviewing the paper. "What do you think? I just have to create a portfolio and then send it in."

He smiled a proud smile. "I think they're crazy not to take you."

Clary beamed up at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jace snickered. "Now come on. We have somewhere to go." The way he said it reminded her of their old times of flirting. She raised an eyebrow.

"Where?"

"It's a surprise," he said and wrapped an arm around her waist. Leaning in next to her ear, he whispered. "And I can't kiss you with Magnus around."

"I heard that, gross boy," Magnus huffed. "I expect her back by nine."

"Magnus, it's eight-thirty right now," Clary said.

"In the morning. It'd be nice to be able to fuck wherever I want in my own home again," Magnus said.

"Alright, Magnus, great parenting," Jace chuckled as he wrapped an around her shoulders and helped her out the door. Clary was very surprised to see a black mustang sitting outside of their building.

"Wow. How rich are you now?" Clary scoffed.

"About as rich as I am beautiful," Jace said after a moment of thinking. Clary rolled her eyes and slid in the passenger side. The windows were well tinted. When he started the car, she almost expected smooth jazz music to filter through the stereo by the changes that had occurred with him. Instead, her familiar rock drifted through her mind. She smiled. "What song?"

"Shut up. You know I like this song." To her response, Jace smirked. She didn't watch the outside world as they drove through the streets. It was peaceful. And then they stepped out of the car. "It's...my house."

Jace nodded. His hand pressed against the small of her back and ushered her forward.

"What's going on? Why are we here?" Clary asked in wonderment. He didn't answer, only hummed and continued pulling her forward into the house. She focused on evening out her breathing as memories swirled through her head.

Then she saw her spot. It was the spot she and Jonathan used to meet among the ashes. It was where she took Jace after the party. It was her safety spot, and it was up to date. Twinkling, battery powered lights hung around the very couch that used to sit upon the roof of her last foster building. A guitar sat below it on blankets and pillows. And above it all was a perfect view of the sky.

"Jace..." Clary didn't know what to say. All she knew was that she was overjoyed. His arms wrapped around her from behind and held her up as she stared in awe. "You did this?" He nodded. "This is..."

"I was hoping you'd like it," he sighed. Clary closed her eyes and tried to remember this moment. She remembered the warmth surrounding her, the way he held her tightly like she'd slip away if he didn't. She remembered her happiness. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Clary sighed. "Why didn't you tell me you were turning eighteen so soon?"

Jace led them to the couch where Clary sat with her legs over Jace's lap, head resting on his shoulder. "I forgot about it for a while," he laughed without humor. "And then...I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how. I didn't know how to tell you I had to leave. Everyone left you, Clary, and I never wanted to be one of them. I was looking into an apartment nearby, but..."

Clary pursed her lips. "Didn't matter," she shrugged. "So what's this about kissing me?"

Jace grinned. "Since when have you never taken what you wanted, Red?"

Giggling, Clary swung a leg over Jace's so she sat directly in his lap. "Never."

They kissed in a way like no other. It was a reunion kiss. It was a relieved kiss. Mostly, it was a loving kiss. They were in love, and they could finally be together.

Jace's lips were just as she remembered: demanding and soft. One hand held her face against his while his other ran through her hair. She ground her hips into his and moved her hands to his biceps.

"I missed you, and I missed this so fucking much," she said against his lips, relishing in his crisp taste. Their tongues licked the other's lips, memorizing everything in case this would be the last.

Clary spent that night and many others with him, and it certainly wasn't their last. They found each other among the many, many lonesome wanderers out there. Maybe they were still wanderers, but they would never be alone again.

* * *

 **A/N: I think this was my best work, so far, and I hate that I kinda ended it on such a big break. I hope I made a good ending. Because I've been gone for so long, if any of you think you'd like it, I may write an epilogue. If I did, I'd need a starting idea to get me rolling. For now, the real story is complete. I hope you liked it. Please let me know what you thought. I love to hear your reviews. You're still the best reviewers I've had since writing Jelsa, but you guys are luckier bc it was actual decent writing…I think.**

 **THANKS FOR READING, YOU'RE AWESOME!**

* * *

 **ALSO!** THank you for understanding my need to take a break. Your responses were seriously so kind. It was inspiring, honestly. It's nice knowing there are people out there that know what it's like. So thank you; it really helped.


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